The Gray Areas
by KaydenceRei
Summary: This was never going to work, they each had too many of their own problems; Bruce with his monster and Natasha with her demons. It was an entirely new gray area that she was fundamentally unprepared for. (How the relationship developed after the fall of SHIELD and before Ultron.)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note** : On request from **MushySnugglybits** (and seriously... I can't write that without laughing...) here's a little(or not so little) Bruce and Natasha story to broaden the dynamics between the two as they went from nothing to something more between **CA:WS** and **AoU**.

 **Disclaimer** : Remember, I don't have my name on ownership to anything. Maybe I'll go buy myself something to put my name on. Like sticky notes. I do so enjoy sticky notes!

 **The Gray Areas** :

It was hard to admit to herself that even though she always waded through the world in a black and white existence, Natasha herself had always lived in that microscopic gray area that most people couldn't comprehend or fathom. She was the void, the black hole of the universe that dragged people in until they were pulled apart and picked clean. That was her job, after all; to take people into that black hole with her and never let them return.

Or it had been, however with the rise of HYDRA and the collapse of SHIELD, her muddled gray area had turned into some crazed and hellish version of 'Alice in Wonderland's rabbit hole. She had thought she was making a difference and thought she was doing dreadful things for good reasons. It was a grim revelation to realize she had once thought the same of the work she had done for Red Room and though she supposed betrayal was in the job description, that didn't really make her feel any better about it. In fact, it only served to make the farce that was her life seem even more empty. There were only two Avengers she really got along with on any satisfactory level, but Steve was off chasing ghosts from the past, and Clint was spending his ample amount of sudden free time with his family.

The invitation to join the Barton family had, of course, been extended to her. Truth be told, as much as she loved to visit them, it felt wrong to stay for any prolonged period of time, especially right now. Clint's family was clean, untouched from the evils of the world andnderneath her pleasant 'Auntie Nat' mask was a monster, and she actually felt like she might soil them if she ever planted herself at the farm for too long. Her partner never seemed to understand why she wouldn't stay for more than little bits at a time, but Laura continuously gave her somber and reassuring looks, looks that said she wouldn't ruin the family if she stayed longer. On rare days she believed the other woman's reassurances, but most days she knew better. It doesn't do any kid good to see someone who woke up, drenched in sweat, and with a weary face from the horrors of the past. Natasha tried not to sleep when she was with them.

Those restless nights now seemed to follow her wherever she went nowadays. Only a few weeks, or maybe it was months, of moving from one place to the other left her feeling weary and drained. The end of SHIELD had left her burnt out, especially after she realized that she had never wiped any red from her ledger, and instead had added to it. It was only when Tony Stark was planted right at the door to her motel room that she realized she hadn't spoken to a single member of the team since she and Steve had averted the crisis(two months and twelve days ago, according to Tony), and she never answered a single request to 'assemble'.

Even so, to have him in her dingy little hideaway for the night wasn't exactly on the top of her 'what makes me happy' list, though that list never really consisted of much to begin with. She didn't show it, as per usual her face was instinctively neutral when she opened the door to find him there, his arms were crossed with the most acerbic expression she had ever seen grace the billionaire's face. "Something I can do for you, Stark?" and the miffed tone her voice came out with wasn't lost on either of them. From the way his sour face changed to a mixture of unease and frustration, she had to hazard a guess that her mask of indifference wasn't really hiding how tired she was, and the thought was left her feeling unsettled.

"Nice digs," the greeting itself was pathetic, but she gave him points for an attempt at levity. "I've got better ones you could stay in. It's free, comes with a kitchen, and-" he glanced over her shoulder at some long ago forgotten and untouched take-out containers, "Healthier dietary options." Her only reaction was the quirk of an eyebrow and she watched as he blew out a breath of frustration, "Barton said he hasn't seen you." It was a nice attempt to get a reaction, she supposed, but she just blinked a few times and waited for whatever else he would say. "And Rogers has been getting his star-spangled underwear all in a bunch since you don't call, or write, or e-mail. Even a tweet would be nice, though I doubt he knows what that is. You might be his first 21st century crush," with that the corner of her lips actually curved into a slightly slanted smile and Tony seemed mildly pleased with himself for it. Within thirty seconds he pulled a brown paper bag out from behind his back and she couldn't stop the quizzical expression that came across her face that made him explain, "And I brought shawarma."

Finally she relented as she stepped back inside and left a small amount of room for him enter, "Come in." He did, although he seemed a little hesitant about it, like she might be trying to lure him inside to stab him for his intrusion on her. The thought _had_ crossed her mind in the beginning and she watched as he moved passed her before she quietly closed the door, then dragged the chain lock across as she did so. When she turned she wasn't entirely sure what to make of the sight at the tiny table; Tony was daintily holding the hours old container of Thai food in edges of his thumb and index finger with a look of revulsion and she actually found it mildly amusing to watch. Natasha shook her head, then she took the few steps to the table and pulled it from his hands. She settled him with a somewhat perturbed look before she tossed it into the trash and watched him pull out two containers from the brown bag, then he slid one in front of her and then himself. "Thanks," she figured it might be rude to not say so.

"Someone had to do something," he responded with a shrug and before he took a seat. "And that—that wasn't food. The smell coming from that was almost alien. Really, Romanoff, you need a health coach. It's amazing you can keep your figure, but I suppose it helps that you didn't actually eat it," there was some hint of caring concern in his witty commentary that kept her from some scathing insult about his misogynistic lecture. She huffed out a sigh and let it go, and opened the container he had given her. She stared down at the disgustingly amazing concoction inside and she must have gotten lost in thought, something that used to never happen, yet now seemed to occur more often than not. The concern was plain in his voice now, "You're not okay. You know that, right?"

She forced her eyes up to meet his and even his usually amused expression seemed almost somber now. "I'm surviving," she assured him as she leaned back in the chair. She still hadn't touched the food, and from his expression, it was bothering him more and more as each second ticked by. Finally she gave in, picked up the vile concoction that she secretly loved, and bit into it. The relief from him was clear to her even though she hadn't looked at him.

Tony's next words actually gave her pause, "Is that really enough?" Natasha, admittedly, didn't understand what he meant by it and she fixed her eyes on him, waiting for him to expand on the question. "Surviving. Is it enough to just survive?" she narrowed her eyes at that as she tilted her head slightly, and the food hung in the air in her fingertips. _Is it enough?_ She honestly had no idea. "Nobody can live like—this," his hands motioned around the room and she felt the crinkle form in her brow.

Finally she placed the food back into the container and sighed, and as she rested her elbows on the table, she proceeded to lean her head down into her hands. Tony had a way about him that made her head ache, and she was too tired to deal with their usual repertoire of wits. The air in the room shifted with her movement, a profound moment where her mask just no longer existed. "No. It's not," she finally admitted, to not just him, but herself as well. "But I don't know what else to do," and she didn't dare to look back up to see what his expression might hold now, because if it was pity, she would kick his ass right out the door. "I've spent my life living in a complex web of lies," she finally admitted as she sat back up in the chair and fixed her gaze on him. Surprisingly, he just looked rather indifferent to her comment, "I'm not really sure if there's actually a real person underneath it all anymore." Then she shrugged, "I'm not sure there ever was."

That seemed to catch him off guard more than anything else and his response to it was swift, "I think that's a cop-out."

"Excuse me?" the indignation in her voice was apparent and she saw the brief flicker in his eyes where he thought that maybe he had gone too far.

As usual, it didn't stop him from continuing and he sighed. She narrowed her eyes further when he crossed his arms. "You remember when you were my—Pepper's— _our_ PA?" he questioned, then seemed to have thought better of it. "Of course you do. You're like an elephant, you never forget," he waved it off with his hand and she wasn't sure if it was to remind him or herself of that fact. "Anyways. I asked you a question, remember?"

"You had plenty of questions. You just googled most of them."

She noted that his sardonic look was almost as amazing as hers. "But only one of them stood out!" came his insistent tone.

She supposed that was true enough. "The last birthday thing," she muttered before she shook her head. "What about it?" her question only caused him to regard her with a knowing look, and she shook her head once more before she ran her fingers through her hair.

" _I_ _f this was going to be the last birthday you ever had, how would you spend it?"_

" _I would do whatever I wanted, with whoever I wanted to do it with."_

Natasha had brazenly given him an honest answer when she shouldn't have six years ago, a mistake that had completely, and literally, blown up in her face. To this day she still wasn't sure why she hadn't lied to him and she thought that maybe it was because he had that vulnerable look on while he was _dying_. It had seemed so wrong to lie to a dying man, hell, even she had some edges on her moral compass that didn't flip completely upside down.

"So?" came Tony's interruption into her current train of thought. She jolted a little before she narrowed her eyes at him and he _almost_ looked apologetic, "What does Natasha Romanoff want to do?" It was a good question. And one that nobody had ever asked before, "There has to be something. Your brain can't _always_ be running on overdrive about your next move, it must want something."

She couldn't disagree. At some point, maybe her brain did tell her she wanted something, and she probably vehemently ignored it. "To stop running," she finally decided. The answer seemed to be less than what he expected, much to simple for Tony Stark's tastes. "Being somewhere that nobody is trying to kill me would be nice," she deadpanned and she saw Tony grin at the comment. Apparently, he appreciated her attempt for levity, because sometimes it managed to match his own dark humor.

"It still surprises me that you can be funny," he admitted with a shrug and she actually chuckled in response. She accepted that she was stuck with him in her current hideaway and then lifted the shawarma to take another bite, which seemed to make the billionaire feel better; though _why_ she was placating some odd need to make him more comfortable was beyond her current comprehension. They each went through half their food in an unusually amicable silence before he finally spoke again, "I happen to know a guy who excels at being off the grid, so to speak."

"Naturally," she commented dryly as she closed the container to the other half of her food. "Is there something you don't have a guy for?" and there was that alarmingly cheeky grin that caused Natasha to roll her eyes.

"I have Pepper for that," he assured her with a wave of his hand. _Yep..._ She had seen that coming as soon as the question left her lips, but even so, she couldn't help the tiny smile that formed at the edges of her lips. It was annoyingly nice to finally have someone to talk to, even if it was the last person she expected, well, maybe the second to last person. "How about it?" the questioning look she gave him must have been apparent. "No more creepy motels and—vile inedible food," after that, he seemed to pause in thought, "Well, no more creepy motels anyways. Not too sure about the food if we're going with the 'off the grid' option."

She blinked a few times and tried to let his words sink in to figure out if he was actually being honest with the offer, and it took a few minutes before she finally decided that he was. "Where would I possibly go that someone wouldn't find me?" she questioned. "I'm in the middle of nowhere, in a motel, and _you_ found me."

"I can find anyone," he reminded her. "Besides, we'll just send you to the last place anyone would ever think to look," and she wasn't entirely sure she liked where this could be going. "Pack your things," she quirked both eyebrows up at him now. "Do you even having anything here?" he questioned as he looked around in wonder.

"I have a gun under the pillow and a knife in my boot, if that counts."

If he was surprised, it didn't show. Tony merely shrugged, "Suppose it does."

Natasha nodded to the black duffle bag at the end of the bed, "Anything else I have is always packed." She could see him staring at the bag with alarmingly wide eyes and she couldn't resist her next question, "Something the matter?"

"One of these days, Romanoff, I'm going to need you to teach Pepper how to pack her luggage," he cracked her mask on that one and before she could stop it she laughed, _really laughed_ , for the first time in two and a half months.

* * *

Where Tony sent her, Natasha didn't find nearly as amusing as his comment about Pepper's luggage problems. A long breath escaped her as she sat down on top of her duffle bag on the ground, at some remote and tiny airfield, in God only knew where. She probably should have just stabbed him with that knife in her boot instead of letting him convince her that he had a rationally good idea. Nothing about this seemed overtly good, not when it was just dirt and more dirt for miles around the dinky little place, littered with planes that she wasn't quite sure even worked any longer. It also didn't help that she had absolutely no idea what, or _who,_ she was supposed to be waiting for. Tony's epic response when she asked had been, 'That's the beauty of it, if you don't know where you're going, how will anybody else?' It had seemed somewhat logical; at the time.

Footsteps alerted her to the presence behind her long before the docile voice ever spoke, "Hey." Her eyes narrowed slightly because that voice was dangerously familiar and it left an uneasy feeling in her gut. Regardless, she stood up and angled her head to look back at Bruce Banner, who shuffled awkwardly to a stop just a few feet away from her. She really had no idea what to do with this, but at least they seemed to be on equal footing with the thought. "So... you want me to take that?" and he gestured down to the bag at her feet. She really didn't, and she shifted her gaze down to it, away from him. The second to last person she had expected to see, had just pawned her off the the very last person she expected to see. She was going to _kill_ Tony Stark. Correction: maim him, then kill him. Bruce only seemed to get more tense with her silence and ignorance of him, "I take it Tony didn't mention to you that I would be the one here."

"No," and it came out a little more annoyed then she meant it to, and she honestly, felt a little terrible at the pained look that covered his face. Natasha rubbed her face and let out a weary sigh before she leaned down and picked up the bag, "This where you've been?"

"Mostly," Bruce answered honestly, "Sometimes I go to the tower when I need to get away for a few days."

"Oh." _This isn't awkward at all._ She fidgeted. Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, _actually_ fidgeted; then he took the bag from her hand. She froze for a second in surprise, saw the the apprehensive look on his face when he realized he had just done it, and she blew out a sigh because she honestly couldn't think of any other way to react. What was she going to do, yell at him for being a gentleman? When she took a look at him, a long _hard_ look, she could see the same thing she saw in the reflection any time she dared to look in the mirror; Bruce was as tired and burnt out as she was, and she supposed that was something anyways, so she gave the smallest of shrugs, "Thanks..." The smile she tried to force out never actually showed itself.

At least he seemed a little relieved that she hadn't chewed his head off, or yelled, and she could tell that Tony must have warned the good doctor that she wasn't exactly her usually stoic self. "Come on," he finally told her as he turned and headed back the way he had come from. She followed swiftly and quietly, because hell, where else was she supposed to go? It seemed he could read her mind, because he answered her next question before she could actually ask it. "India," he told her, "Not Calcutta this time, mind you, it's a little quieter here."

"It gets quieter than Calcutta?"

The comment at least made him smile a little, even if it was somber at best. "I go where I'm needed most," he admitted with a shrug. She couldn't fault his generosity. "We're in Rajasthan. It'll take a bit to get back to Bihar," she could see him testing the weight of the bag before he looked back at her, "I guess we should stop so you can get some things. From the sounds of it, you're staying for a while and that typically requires more then an overnight bag."

She didn't tell him that she had lived on much less for years as a child and that doing so as an adult was a lot more simple. Some topics were best left unbreached and instead she gave a small nod in response, "Guess so." Realization dawned on her now, "I'm staying _with_ you, aren't I?" and at her request for clarification she saw the uncomfortable nod that actually did make her feel a little terrible. "I bother you, don't I?" she asked softly. To his credit, he looked somewhat mortified at the question, but she had a feeling it was most likely because she was right. She shook her head and got into the passenger's seat of the beat-up truck he had led her too, and she took the bag he offered back to her. She stopped him when he opened his mouth, "It's alright, Banner. I bother myself most days."

"Well..." he paused, clearly not sure where to take that statement, but after a beat he said the most surprising thing, "That's alright. I bother myself, too, just be glad yourself isn't yelling back in your head."

Natasha wasn't sure for a moment how to react, so she simply stared at him in wonder with her lips parted slightly, and her head tilted to the side. Whatever response she had thought of, died on her lips, and she could see the small wrinkles of amusement around his eyes. She had never heard him actually make a real joke about the Big Guy before other then his off-handed comment about 'breaking Harlem'. Finally she huffed out a disbelieving chuckle and gave a small shake of her head, "Touche."

* * *

They had gone about the several hours in silence, mostly, other then a few off-handed comments here and there. It wasn't as uncomfortable as she expected, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant experience either, which was going to make staying with him one of the strangest things she had ever done. Natasha, admittedly, had some sincerely bizarre moments in her years as a spy and assassin, yet somehow all of it seemed to pale in comparison. When he parked the truck next to, what supposedly counted for the leftover shambles of a house, she exited the truck with her own black bag and also the bag of clothes they had stopped to get for her along the way. Everything nearby was almost exactly the same, just dirt and darkness and a disarray of defective houses that had been fixed time and again, to a point where it was mostly useless to repair any further.

He seemed uneasy as she followed him inside through a nearly broken door, and she watched with a neutral face as he pulled back the shredded cloth that counted for a door to one of the few rooms inside, "Rooms aren't all that private around here, but—I'm sure we could find something else to hang over the doorway. Never really had a reason to bother with it before-"

She stopped him there. "It's fine," she assured him as she entered the tiny room. There wasn't anything in it besides the mattress and box-spring on the floor, and she assumed those were only recently retrieved for her sake. Truth was, it really was fine by her since she could recall sleeping in worse places; and at least this had a bed, sort of. "I'm not shy," and she was already peeling off her shirt. She had been in the same clothes for nearly two days and she desperately needed something new. She heard him clear his throat at that and she shook her head with grim amusement. Sometimes she forgot he wasn't someone who was very socially adept. She considered now that he spent most of his time with people he barely understood, and he most definitely wasn't used to her candor. She barely caught sight of his frazzled look as he turned away from her bare back and dropped the sheet. Natasha supposed it probably wasn't the best first impression to make on somebody when you move into their home. Once she pulled on the black leggings and the plain black t-shirt, she settled her bags down by the mattress and exited through the sheet. "Sorry," she offered lamely. "Habitual. Sometimes I forget that people aren't quiet as—forward—as I am," it was putting it mildly and she could see that from Bruce's face.

He let it go easily enough, "No problem..." She didn't actually believe him when he said that and he must have noticed her disbelief because he began that awkward fidgeting that he did any time they were near each other for to long. They hadn't really spoken much since the battle of New York, or at all, if you wanted to be realistic.

There wasn't really time to talk now either. Foreign words sounded outside the door to the house and she listened to Bruce acknowledge it and allow it entry. Inside stepped an older woman with a little girl, who was around eight, and both of them paused to studied her, probably due to the clothes she wore. She made herself scarce and returned back behind the sheet and to let Bruce do his doctoring without her prying eyes. It was probably about ten minutes before she saw the little girl's brown eyes peer through the side of the sheet. It was strangely endearing and she gave her a small smile.

" _May I enter?"_ Her Hindi was sub-par, but she figured she could manage, probably better than Bruce did at any rate. She nodded her head and watched as the young girl pushed the sheet aside and slid into the room lithe like a cat. She could just barely see Bruce's questioning look as he noticed the child, and then it disappeared just as quickly behind the sheet. " _You dress funny,_ " Natasha chuckled at that and watched as the girl eyed her bag of clothes with interest. Those eyes moved back to her in curiosity and she knew exactly what the kid was thinking. She gave a reluctant nod and watched the girl grin and dig some of the more traditional female clothing of India out of the bag, then proceed place it on the mattress beside her. She released a small laugh when the girl stood on her feet, on the mattress, and began to drape the red garment around her with remarkable precision. Then the little hands tapped her arms, " _Up,_ " she ordered. Natasha lifted her arms without a second thought and raised an eyebrow up as the child continued the fashion makeover with ferocious enthusiasm.

It took her a moment more but finally she assumed the little girl was done as she hopped off the mattress and stood back to eye her handiwork. " _How do I look_?" she questioned and she watched as she little girl grinned.

" _Cholo's were made for you,_ " the child replied with a satisfied nod. She must have looked confused because the little girl pointed to the garment she had just draped over her, " _Cholo_."

Natasha studied it briefly, though she didn't exactly have a mirror to see if what the child said was true, " _Thank you._ " The little girl looked a little befuddled, probably not sure what she was being thanked for, so she offered up her name, "Natasha _."_

That made the girl smile, "Krishna." Natasha chuckled as the little girl stoically held out her hand and she shook it. Then just as suddenly, she plopped onto the mattress beside her and the child lifted her hand up, touching the small beauty mark on her cheekbone, " _You're pretty._ "

Sometimes the sincerity of children was to much and her lips curled into a real smile before she gently poked Krishna's nose, " _So are you._ " It was only a second later that they heard the little girl's name called and then she was dragged from the room by the little girl and pulled towards her mother. "Natasha!" she informed her mother who was currently looking between them.

Slowly the mother's face became apologetic at the realization that, not only had her daughter barged into Natasha's bedroom, but she had also redressed her slightly. " _It's alright, she was fine,_ " she assured the woman who looked relieved at the words. She gave the little girl a small finger wave when the mother led her outside, calling back a quick apology regardless of what Natasha had said. She glanced back at Bruce's surprised expression, "Something wrong?"

"Just—I didn't quite know what to do when I saw her go in your room," he admitted as he sheepishly scratched his head. "Your face was a little hard to read for the brief second that I got to see it."

Her eyebrow quirked upward at that, "You afraid I'll start massacring the people of Bihar because an eight year old walked in my room and put a _cholo_ on me?" She saw the slightly horrified expression cross his face at the mere mention of it and frustration flared in her chest, "Give me a little credit, Doctor Banner, I do have some self control. It takes a little more then that to get me running and gunning."

"I didn't mean-" but she was already back behind the sheet. She removed the garment and stuffed the clothing back into the bag before she rubbed her eyes tiredly, then she heard Bruce let out a frustrated breath of air. This was never going to work. They each had to many of their own problems, Bruce with his monster, and Natasha with her demons. It was an entirely new gray area that she was fundamentally unprepared for.

She flopped down on the mattress and pulled the sheet that rested on it over her head. She must have been even more exhausted than she thought, because the next thing she knew, she jerked up with the strangest sensation. She reached her hand out immediately and snatched the arm of whoever had been reaching towards her, and then she heard Bruce's grunt of surprise when she flipped him over onto his back. For a brief second she was horrified, and all she could think to do was stared down and expect him to start to turn green. She covered her mouth in shock, but fortunately, it never happened. Instead he just took a brief moment to catch his breath before his concerned tone reached her ears, "Are you...alright?" He had sat up, and his studious expression caused her to realize that she was shivering. "I didn't mean to startle you—you just—I got worried. You sounded like you were in pain," she had to blink a few times to try to get her senses back. "Natasha?" his hand reached out again but she must have reacted badly, possibly even flinched to the maneuver, because he yanked his back almost immediately.

Her silence only seemed to make him more panic-stricken though, and she wanted to apologize for hurting him, but it was stuck in the back of her throat. It was the first time anybody had ever dared to come in and check on her. Clint had known better because he had his own demons at night, and he knew those demons were better left alone until they settled. He always kept his distance until she shook it off and allowed her to put the mask back on. Steve was much the same, for what little time they had worked together after New York. He had casually attempted to bring it up, but he never pushed when she actively refused to speak about whatever plagued her in the night. The words came out from her lips of their own accord before she could push them down with the apology, "You can leave now." It was an uncomfortable silence as he tried to decided what to do. "Get out," Natasha's voice was more forceful now as she stared through him as though he were corporeal.

The worry never left his defeated posture and she didn't actually recall him leaving, but he must have, because suddenly he put a warm cup in her hand. She had to blink a few more times before she looked down at it in bewilderment. "Tea," he explained, as though it were some sort of peace offering, but her silence only seemed to make him more panic-stricken. "I just—I'm sorry," he offered up uselessly as he realized now that he had intruded on something she neither wanted, nor allowed, other people to see. She watched him in confusion as he backed out of the room and then her eyes settled back down on the cup of tea.

She hadn't meant to get angry, but then again, she never meant to do a lot of things. As it turned out, the woman beneath the mask was just a shell of a person, even worse at social interactions than Bruce Banner himself. She had told Tony that she didn't know if there was actually a person underneath all the lies, but it turned out, there was. It was just to bad that person was in shambles, even more so than the house she currently resided in. Natasha sipped the tea, but it left a bitter taste and she stood up slowly, hesitant before she decided to edge out of the room. Bruce seemed to do a double-take when she appeared, and he looked worried that he might be on the receiving end of some sort of angry spiel he seemed to think he deserved. It only made her feel worse because he hadn't been trying to intrude, he had merely been trying to help her.

Her lips parted, but the words still never came out, so she quickly pursed them shut again. Apologies never did come out easily for her because it wasn't often she felt she actually needed to. His expression changed to one a bit more understanding, some gentleness lurking in his eyes that relaxed her a little, "It's alright." It wasn't, not for her, but she gave an almost imperceptible nod as she turned and went back into the room with the same silence she had exited it.

She didn't sleep the rest of the night, and she didn't dare go back out the next day unless he wasn't around.

* * *

 **Well. These two are off to a rather shaky start. Eh?**

 **As always, criticism is completely acceptable and appreciated. Angry ranting about how horrible I am or how you don't like Bruce and Natasha together will be promptly giggled at and responded to with vomit-inducing kindness.**

 **That being said. Hope you enjoyed the first installment of The Gray Areas. Tomorrow will be an update for One Step at a Time. Ta-ta for now!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note** : This chapter is for **Kelly of the midnight dawn**. This site brings us back together again after almost... uh, scary to say, a decade of not talking or reading each others' stories.

Now then. Emergency exits can be located using the back button on the top left of your browser, or by using the backspace key on your keyboard. If your eyes bleed from reading a Brutasha fic, please remember that there is a power switch somewhere on your console that will immediately solve this issue. Thank you and please enjoy your feature presentation.

 **Chapter 2** :

Bruce was doing his best to give the redheaded former assassin her space, something she had made abundantly clear that she not only wanted it, but also that she needed it. It was now six days since the incident between them and even though he hadn't been upset with her reaction to him that night, she seemed to have an entirely different opinion, because any time he actually did see her, she would slowly start to look more and more disheveled. The more the nights went by, the less she would sleep, and the less she would sleep, the more it would show in her eyes. There were even a few times where he caught small glimpses behind the sheet and she would just sit on the mattress and stare at the wall.

Still, Natasha hadn't been wrong when she said that she bothered him. He hadn't admitted it, but something about her had always thrown him a little off kilter. The vague recollection of the Other Guy very nearly killing her had continuously left a bad taste in his mouth. It wasn't her fault that her presence bothered him, however the change in her since then and now was almost unbelievable, and it only fueled the feeling further. Apparently it was the Black Widow who only took five minutes huddled in a corner after being faced with death by The Hulk; she was the one who shook it off, put on her big-girl pants and went back to business.

The woman Tony Stark had left at an airfield several hours away wasn't the same one Bruce had last seen. Natasha didn't shake things off so easily without the mask to hide behind. She had let go of the spider when she had released it into the world and he was forced to see the wreckage of the woman left behind. Sure, her poker face was still as top notch as ever when she actually cared enough to put it on, but for whatever reason she didn't seem to bother with it while she was here. Admittedly, he had actively avoided looking at any of the SHIELD files that the redhead had placed onto the internet for the world to see, especially her files. People didn't become like her without reason, not unless they were a sociopath. She had never struck him as a sociopath though, a few sociopathic tendencies perhaps, but she wasn't completely unfeeling, something that was painfully obvious nowadays.

So he attempted to do what seemed impossible and get the redhead to relax a little; to calm down and breathe through whatever demons she was currently battling. "Um... Doctor Banner?" her troubled voice broke his thoughts and suddenly he realized why she had actually spoken to him. The smoke that now poured throughout the tiny kitchen area was a painful reminder to Bruce that he probably shouldn't cook if he could help it and he grimaced slightly. He quickly took the pan off the burner and wafted the smoke through the air uselessly. Natasha wandered towards him in curiosity and he sighed as she stopped just next to him, then she peered over at the pan he had settled aside on the oven. Her trademark eyebrow raised upward and he watched with fascination as she peeled a blackened piece of bacon from the pan and held it up to her face for closer inspection. It was absurdly hilarious to see her study it with the barest hint of amusement, and then she unexpectedly took a bite of it. "Huh, well..." she took a second bite and shrugged, "I've eaten worse."

He couldn't help but laugh because of all the ridiculous ways he had come up with to convince her to stop staring at the walls, burning breakfast had never even been on the list. "Me too," he admitted, "Though it's almost always my fault that I eat worse. I'm not very good with this."

There was a slanted smile on her face as she gestured him to move. Begrudgingly, he decided it was probably for the best, so he stepped aside and watched as she dumped his burned bacon onto a plate and started anew. "You know, bacon is surprisingly easy to screw up," she mentioned and he chuckled because he could bare witness to that fact. "One minute too long, or not long enough, and you either wind up with a piece of charcoal or a piece of rubber," as if it wasn't ridiculous enough that she took over his attempt to cook breakfast, now she added in a lecture on the many ways to cook bacon. He kept silent as she flipped the pieces over, surprised to see that cooking seemed to put her a little more at ease, even if the darkness under her eyes still remained. Then she flipped it onto a new plate and handed it to him, "Here you go."

"Oh—uh..." He took the plate she dropped in his hands and frowned, though he accepted one of the pieces of bacon just to be polite and took a bite. He had to admit, she did know her way around the frying pan, "I was actually—well, I was making it for you."

There it was again. She stood there and stared at him as she blinked a few times, as though she didn't quite comprehend what he just said to her. "Me?" came Natasha's baffled tone, "Why?"

Bruce sighed, because for someone trained to see everything, she really was rather oblivious. "I haven't seen you eat anything in a week," he told her and he watched her eyes harden for a moment, as though she was going to retort with something unkind. A moment later she seemed to rethink whatever crossed her mind and the hardened gaze faded to something a little softer. It seemed that being taken care of was practically a foreign subject to her, something she didn't know what to do with, and he understood where feelings like that got established. It was something that got drilled into you when you were young, that nobody was going to take care of you except for yourself. Finally he just gave a disheartened sigh and placed the plate back in her hands, "Just eat." She looked mildly annoyed at being ordered around, "You don't know how to kill someone with bacon, do you?"

Flabbergasted, that was the only word he could think of to explain the look that graced her face now. Slowly her lips moved into a smirk and she gave him an amused glare, "Other than initiating a future heart attack or hoping it gets choked on, no." That was a relief. "But I'll see what I can come up with," he released a nervous chuckle at that, but he was relieved to see her take the plate and sit down. "So, I just made myself breakfast?"

"Looks like it," he agreed with a shrug.

Her bites into the slices of bacon were slow, but after the first piece she finally decided to speak again, "Guess it's the thought that counts." She really was the strangest person he had ever met.

Bruce could only smile a little at that. "Well, if you ever wanted to—uh..." he paused, not sure how to actually make the next offer, "Talk..."

"I'd much rather drink my feelings, Doctor Banner, not talk through them." _So much for that._ Not that he doubted her since there tended to be a vodka bottle in the kitchen or her bedroom each day, and it wasn't always the same one. Yet, she never seemed drunk, so either she had the highest tolerance for alcohol in a human being besides Steve Rogers, or she hid her intoxication as well as she hid everything else.

He gave a haggard sigh and realized it was back to square one as she pushed the plate aside and walked back behind the sheet. There was something that kept him from being overly frustrated with her though and he just couldn't decide if it was the fact that she was so plagued by whatever she saw at night, or the fact that she was avoiding sleep to hide from it. It also begged the question of whether or not she wasn't sleeping for her sake or for his, but the simple fact was, she would watch him when she thought he didn't notice and she would try to gauge what he was thinking. He figured she was trying to find out if her presence was detrimental in anyway, and if he was honest, he didn't really know what her presence was, something of which he informed Tony of that late that night, when Natasha had disappeared from the house.

The billionaire was the only person he actually considered a friend in many years, and he supposed that was because the other man had absolutely no care in the world. There was never a remote hint that Tony feared him or his monster, in fact, he continually made jokes about 'letting the big guy fly' and 'letting off a little steam'. Simply put, Bruce had grown pretty fond of Tony from the moment the other man zapped him on the Helicarrier to see what would happen. "How's Romanoff settling in?" came his friend's voice. The video screen popped up only a moment later to show him wearing a pair of safety goggles, "She stab anybody yet?"

"No stabbing," he answered with a shrug, though he supposed Tony could see the sag in his shoulders.

"I take it she's not settling then."

That was an understatement. "Not particularly," he admitted, "Most of the time it's like she's not even here. And when she is, I think I just piss her off."

Sparks flew across the screen and Bruce was at least a little amused, because only Tony Stark would be using a blow-torch while on a video call. "Well, I don't know if you've noticed, Bruce, but you're a lot alike," and he must have looked completely befuddled by the comment. "She's always angry, too," with that the sparks disappeared and he watched as Tony pulled the goggles onto the top of his head. There were soot marks all around where the goggles had been and it left clean skin in the shape of them. "Honestly. I think she's got even more bottled up than you do. The apocalypse would happen if somebody exposed her to gamma radiation. She would become some cross between the exorcist and a She-Hulk. She would turn green, her head would spin in a three-sixty and she would vomit little daggers that gouged out eyeballs through telekinetic powers of the mind."

"That's not that funny..." Bruce grumbled, but the amused shake of his head and crinkles around his eyes clearly gave him away and proved he thought otherwise.

The billionaire distorted his voice and held his hand up to his mouth like he was talking over a loud-speaker. "Tchhh-chhh—Code: Green. Code: Green. Tccchh-chhh—apocalypse looming. Tccchh-chhh—Black Widow on rampage. Spiders now go _rooar,_ Code: Green, Code—" he paused and both of his eyebrows raised as he looked at something behind Bruce. "Afternoon, Romanoff. You're looking rather—uh..." he guessed Tony had just gotten an actual decent look at the redhead, because he looked a little unsettled for half a second before he hid it. He dared to look behind him to see that Natasha, per usual, looked impassive. It was actually somewhat surprising given she must have walked in sometime during Tony's antics. "Charming as ever," he finished after a beat. She never reacted, in fact, she just went back behind her sheet without a word. It had slowly become her usual reaction when she was met with something she didn't want to deal with. "I believe she's already plotted at least a dozen variations of my death in the last week."

"You haven't been eating bacon, have you?" Bruce questioned. The joke was lost on Tony but he thought he heard a snort come from behind the sheet.

The billionaire gave an over-exaggerated breath of exasperation and clearly he had heard Natasha's snort of amusement as well, "You two have an inside joke, that's adorable." It was all he could do not to roll his eyes until the sound of the front door crashing open caused him to swivel around, wondering briefly if the his housemate was about to take off in some fit of rage. "Romanoff!" Tony's alarmed tone indicated that wasn't the case. By the time he fully turned to see the man with the gun, Natasha was already running through the sheet, and she caught the intruder off-guard as she wrapped her arm around his neck and bulldogged him to the ground. He was almost to dumbfounded to know how to react to what just happened, because at a walloping five feet and three inches, he couldn't fathom the upper body strength she must have to even pull off a maneuver like that. "Yeesh... Romanoff, you are twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag." _Leave it to Tony..._

Natasha got back on her feet swiftly enough and she eyed the unconscious man with caution before she looked over at him, "You good, Banner?"

"What she means is, are you about to Code Green and break Bahir?" Tony translated.

Bruce could only sigh at that, "Yes—wait. I mean no." He groaned, "Yes to the first and no to the second," he corrected.

Before he could even warn her about the movements of the man at her feet, she leaned down with such speed and, quiet literally, gave him a right jab to the jugular. Then she gave an almost bewildered look out the broken front door. "Shit," he didn't imagine that meant anything good and she proved the thought correct when she ran towards him, "Get down!" There wasn't exactly time to react as she took him to the ground even more easily than she had the intruder and he was left to lay underneath her when the bullets pelted through the fragile walls in a barrage. The video link to Tony was taken out almost instantly and she stared down at him intensely, "I swear if you turn green—"

"I won't..." he promised quietly and he did his best to keep the Other Guy at bay, though he wasn't exactly easy to ignore. The look on her face said she didn't entirely believe him, and frankly, he couldn't really blame her for that. It was an uncomfortable sixty seconds with a sea of gunfire cascading through the house before it went eerily silent and he watched her teal eyes. They were locked onto the front door when she slowly pulled herself into a crouch and she pulled him with her, then dragged him behind the couch. He could only blink a few times as she motioned for him to stay there before she pressed her index finger to her lips. And then she was gone, graceful as a feline, Natasha slipped from their hiding spot and disappeared into the darkness of the room. Whoever attacked clearly had no idea the mistake they just made when they shot any and all of the lights out.

Footsteps creaked in through the front door and he knew it wasn't her. Natasha didn't make noise and he could count at least five sets of footsteps that weren't hers before the silent assassin finally struck. Suddenly there were enough different noises that he wasn't sure what to make of it all. The flare came into the room just in time for him to see her take out a garrote. She was up on the first assailant's shoulders, pulling it around his neck and then just as the man beside them raised the gun, she bent backwards to use the man she had a hold of as a shield. The bullet intended for Natasha took residence in the first man's body and she released one hand on the wire so that it retracted from his neck and into her other hand. Within another second, she easily flipped onto her hands and used her legs to launch her meat shield into the shooter, which brought both men to the ground.

She used that momentum, still on her hands, to vault herself backwards and get the third man's head between her feet. She locked her ankles around his neck and used all of her weight to twist and drag him to the ground as well. When the fourth swung around to where she was on the ground, it was too little too late. Natasha was faster then anyone Bruce had ever seen and she pulled a knife from her boot before she jammed it into the side of the fourth man's knee. The scream made him grimace and he watched the guy writhe on the ground in agony before she slammed his head into the floor to silence him. She nearly made it five for five, but the fifth assailant seemed to have better reactions then the rest of the men.

The large hand gripped her neck, wrenched her forward, and took off her feet. Bruce heard the resounding noise that came when the back of her head slammed into the wall not once, not twice, but _three_ times. He was already on his feet and he quickly grabbed the flare off the ground. Before Natasha could retaliate against her assaulter, he shoved the lit end of the flare into the man's neck. The noise that came from him was mind-numbing and he picked up one of the guns and slammed it over his head. It took him to the ground easily enough. By the time his eyes moved back to Natasha, she was half-leaning against the wall and bent over with hands around her throat, and she stared up at him with the widest eyes he had ever seen. He never got to say a word, because a second later she snatched the gun from his hand and pushed him behind her. He barely saw why she did it until she raised the gun and fired a bullet straight through the forehead of the second guy, who had very nearly put a bullet in Bruce's own back. Her words were quiet, grateful, yet also condescending, "Much as I appreciate the whole white knight thing, I told you to stay back for a reason."

"Whoa!" he huffed in surprise. He reached for her hand as she aimed the gun at the head of one of the four still alive. "Wait—wait!" and she did, although she whipped her head around and looked at him in bewilderment; like he had just done something completely sacrilegious. He supposed that to someone like Natasha, he sort of had, and he rested his hand on hers gently as he pushed the gun down to her side. "You don't just—just shoot unconscious people..." he told her quickly. "They aren't a threat now. I mean, I get it, they tried to kill you but—"

The look in her eyes said she thought _he_ was the insane one right now. "Kill me?" and her tone was nothing if not sardonic as she found the one working light in the house and proceeded to turn it on. It flooded the room just enough so he could see the carnage. "Take a closer look, Doc," she motioned towards the men on the floor. "These guys are local. Far as I know, this might actually be the one place in the world that I _haven't_ managed to piss anyone off." She looked like she was thinking about it for a moment, "Well, India and maybe Switzerland."

"Switzerland?"

"It's very neutral territory there," she deadpanned. Then she nudged each unconscious man with the toe of her boot before she looked back at him, "My enemies aren't going to send the local crime syndicate of India to kill me. And if they did, I would be more offended then anything else."

Bruce frowned now, "You're saying they came here to kill me?"

"Yep..." she muttered and rubbed the back of her neck, "You've pissed somebody off."

"What could I have possibly done?"

The look on her face was near incredulous. "Seriously, Banner?" she questioned. "You're out here, helping the needy, tending to the sick, and you're not asking them for anything. You don't take anything that isn't offered, hell, sometimes you don't even take what they _do_ offer," she pointed out and he couldn't deny the validity of the statement, though he still didn't see the issue. "You're digging into their profits. You've probably cost them boatloads of cash by helping these people like you do. We're in No-mans-land, India where they need to travel for nearly a day without stopping to ever find a doctor to treat them and that's if they can even afford it." It was actually starting to make a little sense. "So, local crime lords send their lackeys with medicine and useless promises of protection. Of course, it all costs something, because nothing is free. A drug mule here, a little murder for hire there. Welcome to the gray area of the world, Doc. It's not all sunshine and roses."

Bruce fumbled for what to even say to that. Of course he knew the damned world wasn't sunshine and roses and he grunted in annoyance at her comment, "Okay... so it's my fault."

He watched as Natasha's eyes softened a little at that. "That isn't what I meant, Bruce..." she assured him, and it was weird that she had suddenly decided to be somewhat gentle with him. She never used his first name, not since she failed in her attempt with it to stop him from Hulking out on the Helicarrier. "It's just—I learned lately that sometimes doing the right thing isn't always the right thing," she added with an almost numb shrug, then he watched as she struggled to think of how that actually fit the current situation. "Bad example..." she decided. "I just mean that, yes, you're doing something great for these people. But doing something generous usually includes stepping on the toes of the greedy."

"So you want to just kill them?" he questioned and he studied her intently. "I mean, those two I understood, self-defense. But... the others? That's murder."

"Are you forgetting who you're talking to here?" came her flippant reply as she rolled her eyes. "Murder is sort of my area of expertise, Banner." _So much for Bruce._

She raised the gun at one man again and he quickly grabbed her wrist, "Natasha, _stop_."

Now she was giving him an absurd look. "Listen to me, Bruce. If half a dozen armed men come into your home, you don't just kill half of them and say ta-ta for now. If my shooting them bothers you, turn around, or if you really prefer, then we can wait til they wake up and start this whole tit-for-tat thing over again. At least that way their deaths can be satisfactory to your over-inflated moral compass."

Bruce swore that she was going to be the death of him, especially since he heard the Other Guy grunt with appreciation at her suggestion of murder. "You know, maybe you should think about what it means when my other half thinks that's a good idea," and to his satisfaction, she actually looked somewhat disturbed at the thought.

Natasha's face quickly returned back to a blank slate though and the only good thing was that she lowered the gun to her side, albeit a tad reluctantly. "Alright, I won't kill them," she told him. He let out a breath of relief even as The Hulk grumbled in the back of his mind. "Got any rope?" he narrowed his eyes at that and she just quirked an eyebrow up, "If you won't let me kill them, you're at least going to get me rope to tie them up, then you'll help me drag them out to the truck."

"Why are we doing that last part?" and honestly, he loathed whatever answer might await him.

Surprisingly, she didn't seem annoyed with his question. "People like them don't stop just because you say please. And they don't stop just because you showed some mercy," she informed him politely. He was a little uneasy about whatever she might be plotting, but he went and got the rope for her anyways. When he got back she was still on high alert in case the men started to wake up, and truthfully, he was afraid one of them might twitch and cause her to shoot preemptively. "We're going to tie them up, we're going to put them in the trunk, and then I'm going to go drop them off to their boss and have a little chat."

"Are you out of your mind?" he groaned out and he heard the Other Guy actually snort with amusement. It was official, Tony had put a mentally unstable assassin in his home that The Hulk seemed to approve of immensely, "How is that any better than what we just decided you _wouldn't_ do?!"

The slanted smile she gave him made him uneasy and her next words didn't help, "There are other ways of convincing people to see your side of things than putting a bullet in them, Doctor Banner."

He rubbed his temples, trying to push back the headache that was lurking closer. "That's not as comforting as you think it is, Natasha..." he handed her the rope and watched as she went about with expert precision as she tied the hands and feet of the men who were still alive. When she finished she stuck the gun in the waistline of her pants and looked over at him expectantly, "You're really doing this?"

She simply angled her head to the side slightly. "You thought I was kidding?" she questioned. The simple truth was, he didn't know what to think of her. It was disturbing to realize that most of the horror he had seen on her face over the last week had disappeared since the first guy kicked in the front door. The Black Widow had returned for the moment, and she left no trace of the hollow and empty Natasha Romanoff, who had walked around in limbo. She placed her hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze, something she probably thought was reassuring, though the reality was, it was anything but. "I'm not going to kill them," and he actually thought she sounded sincere, although lying was another one of her specialties. "Not unless I have to." _There's always a catch..._

"This isn't right..." Bruce reminded her, "You know that." Still, he helped her with her endeavor to bring the bodies to the car, and they both ignored the prying eyes of all the residents in the desolate town.

"Yeah," she admitted. "But I also know there are really only two choices here, so I want you to tell me which one suits your needs better," she informed him as they went back for bodies two and three. "Choice number one, I go in—I do what's necessary to get them off your back, if they don't agree, cut off the head of the leader. Then you keep going down the list until you get one who _does_ agree to your terms." She was disturbingly nonchalant about telling him her plans to murder her way through the command ladder of a crime syndicate. Now they were onto bodies four and five, "Choice number two, I can just flop them onto the front porch to their boss, who by the way, will also kill them, just in case you didn't know that. I'll say, 'Excuse me sir, didn't mean to bother you, but I found these in my house,' and then I'll come back here. After that, he'll proceed to send _more_ men with guns and maybe next time you won't be able to contain your very angry other half, and as Stark so blatantly put it earlier, you can proceed to break Bihar."

"Natasha..."

She ignored the soft and worried tone of his voice. "I don't really see a third option here. But feel free to correct me if I'm wrong." He didn't and as much as he was loathed to admit it, she was right. Those were their only two options unless he left India all together and didn't come back, though the thought was tempting now. The last guy was now in the bed of the truck and Bruce ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated and pissed and worried all at once. A second later, she pried the keys from his hand and opened the driver's side door before she started the truck. She looked back at him again and the saddest smile graced her face with it's presence. "Truth is, Bruce? I'm a lot more comfortable adding more red to my ledger and taking care of this myself, than I am with seeing what you might do to yourself in the aftermath if I don't."

Bruce couldn't help the horrified expression that crossed his face and he wanted to tell her they could just leave India. The problem was, she was gone before he could do or say anything else about it. Natasha had never actually put the options on the table up for debate, she had simply given him the facts and the fact was, she saw murder as the lesser of two evils.

* * *

 **Yep. I'm a tidbit twisted. I was in one of those moods. I get all dark and twisty. Hope you can dig it.**

 **Remember, criticism is always accepted and appreciated. Any angry rants about how horrible I am or how horrible Bruce and Natasha are will be responded to with vomit-inducing kindness. I'm just that dark and twisty. I'm actually quite proud of it.**

 **Ta-ta for now!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note** : Warning, characters in this story are undergoing **_Kaydification_**. This is a dangerous experiment where I weave the lives of these characters into a web of my choosing. Side effects may include growing pains, snarling, turning green, breath taking anger management problems and possible ripping of your pants.

This one goes out to **levi97100**.

 **Chapter 3** :

It took some convincing the next morning to inform Tony that he was, in fact, still alive and Bahir was still in tact, his own home not included. The other man was relieved up until he explained the assassins departure and her plans. After sixteen hours, his friend was already arriving to see Bruce was cleaning up the mess that the assailants had made the night before and that most of the town was helping to fix anything that they could. For the most part, everything was nearly back to normal. Bullet holes in the walls were patched and the door was reattached, barely hanging from the hinges exactly as it used to. He made sure to thank all of the people who had pitched in to help before sending them away and he watched Tony stand there with his sunglasses on the brim of his nose. "You didn't actually need to come here."

"Sure I did," Tony responded with a shrug, following him into the house. "Has our favorite assassin returned?"

Bruce could only shake his head in response to the question. Truth was, he was getting more and more worried with each passing hour. "I'm not sure if I'm more worried or pissed," he admitted, rubbing the tired from his eyes. "She's one of the most frustrating people I've ever met."

And his friend actually laughed at that. "Romanoff certainly has a unique quality about her," he agreed. "You sure you're okay?" the worry was back in his voice.

"I'm fine..." he assured him, taking a seat on the couch and sagging back onto it. "You know what bothers me most?" and Tony waited patiently. "My reaction to her," he admitted, laying his head back and keeping his eyes closed. "I wasn't particularly nice about her protecting me. And I was even less so when she ran off to make sure I stayed, you know, me..." He groaned, "It's not even really her fault. It bothers me most because the, other guy... agreed with her."

To give Tony credit, the man only cringed a little at that. "Well, I did warn you before I brought her here that Natasha wasn't like all the other little girls on the playground," and there was no doubt about that. "This is the woman who infiltrated my company, _mine_ , and spied on me so that she could help save my life. Because honestly, just flat out offering to help wouldn't have made sense to Nick Fury or to her."

"Like you would have accepted the offer?"

"Of course not," Tony answered with a wave of his hand. "Not the point though," and he watched other other man look around the crumbling shack. "Got anything to drink that packs a little punch?"

Bruce thought of Natasha's vodka but quickly thought better of it. "Afraid not," he stated with a shrug. "Are we supposed to go after her? Help her? Stop her?"

"Stop her?" came Tony's disbelieving tone. "I'm not exactly her biggest fan, Bruce, I'll admit that. Truth is, some people have right hands to help them out and keep them in line. People like Fury? They had right _and_ left hands. Natasha was his left hand."

"What the hell does that mean?" he dared to ask. He was honestly afraid of the answer.

"It wasn't obvious enough?" his friend questioned and Bruce almost rolled his eyes at that. "The right hand works on the right side of the law. You know, dealing with the news, taking care of the legal matters. They walk the line of right and wrong but they don't cross it." Now it made a lot more sense. "Natasha does the opposite. She takes care of the problems nobody else will. Got an organization with a less than stellar reputation that needs to be taken out quietly? She's your girl. Need information but can't get it through legal or moral means? She's got it covered. Need someone to take out the local drug lord to keep a Code: Green at bay? Apparently, she deals with that, too." Tony shrugged now, "You don't have to like it. I don't even think she likes it. I don't like it either but the thing is, we don't have to like it to appreciate the value of her particular skill set."

Bruce leaned forward now, leaning his elbows on his knees and resting his face in the palms of his hands. "I can't have that around me—I don't think it's a particularly good way to deal with my other half."

He could see Tony's mouth open to reply but instead a voice behind them spoke in a neutral tone, "Guess I'm voted off the island." He turned quickly at Natasha's words to see that she was leaning against the wall by the front door with her arms crossed over her chest. He couldn't quite help the nervous flutter in his stomach because he hadn't meant it in the way she seemed to have taken it. "It's alright. I'm used to that." If anything it only proved to make him feel worse. Then she shifted almost imperceptibly and he could see she was favoring one leg over the other, even if she was making a good show not to. "Can I hitch a ride out of here when you leave, Stark?"

Tony gave a stiff nod.

"Great," she declared, swiftly heading towards her room. She quirked an eyebrow up for a moment and he saw her taking note that her sheet for a door no longer existed, having gotten shredded sometime during their attack. A quiet sigh huffed from her lips and she entered anyways, tossing aside her clothes without a spare thought.

The billionaire quickly cleared his throat, "Peachy. I see she has modesty to go along with that sharp tongue."

Bruce wasn't worried about her modesty, not if she wasn't; Instead he stood up, shuffling over to the room she had been residing in, "You're injured."

She looked at him wildly and it was apparent he had done a lot more than startle her. She looked less then thrilled with his second intrusion into her room. Still, he gave her credit when she didn't tell him to leave within the first five seconds and instead she followed his eyes with her own, "I'm fine"

Bruce sighed, running his fingers through his muss of hair and his shoulders sagged down further than usual. The spy had two deep slices, both at least two to three inches long, running across her waist and the other on her thigh. The shoddy stitch work that had been done on them was terrible and he could only assume she had done it to herself. Nobody could stitch it themselves even remotely well with the angle they would have to work at. "Keep your clothes off." _Shit..._

He didn't have to look to see the smirk that came across her face, he knew it was there the moment the words finished leaving his lips. "You could at least buy me dinner first, Banner." If face-palms were actually a thing people did, he certainly would have done it then and there. It was just a miracle Tony hadn't made a noise or a comment.

Instead he forced himself to ignore the fact this his face had almost certainly turned a shade closer to her hair color. "I made breakfast," he pointed out, surprised by his own retort.

The comment actually seemed to surprise her too, at least for the briefest of moments before she recovered her mask again, "You _attempted_ to make breakfast, but I'm not sure that counts."

He couldn't keep doing this when she was only in her undergarments. By the looks of it, he wasn't sure she was going to leave those on for much longer either. "They're already getting infected."

"And?"

That almost made his face red for another reason completely. "And? That's your response?" he questioned. The anger was only fueled when Natasha seemed to have no idea why it bothered him so much. "Besides the fact that those stitches need to come out and then be redone, you haven't even cleaned these." She didn't seem to care.

"Vodka is good for more than drinking, Doc. I'm not so much of a lush that I can't use it for more wasteful purposes like cleaning wounds." She picked up the bottle from the mattress and took a swig, giving him a wink.

It was even more infuriating to realize that she seemed to have no care that those tiny lacerations already had a slightly unsatisfying smell to them. "Just—you know what, no. I'm not even going to begin to tell you how wrong that is. Get in the other room," he told her immediately.

And pissed off didn't even begin to describe her face at his sudden barking of orders. "You don't get to dictate—"

"Now," he growled out the order. Her eyes became a whirlwind of different emotions. Switching from anger, to surprise and then annoyance. "Please?" he offered up next, which caused a reaction in her teal eyes that he wasn't quite sure what to make of. It wasn't quite defeat, more like acceptance. After one more moment of hesitation she finally tossed the shirt onto her mattress and stalked into the other room, vodka bottle still in hand.

"Right. Well..." came Tony's voice from the main room. "I'll make myself scarce. Bruce, I'll leave the equipment for the new video comms outside the door. Give you a call in a few days," he called out. Then he heard the next comment, "You coming after you've been patched up, Red?"

Bruce could feel Natasha's eyes on him as he dug through his cupboards, pulling out everything he needed. It was almost unbearable but he managed not to react when she gave her answer, "Yes."

"Okay. Well," Tony huffed out an uncomfortable breath, probably due to the assassin still parading around in her underwear. "There are so many things I could say right now..."

He visibly grimaced at his friend's words and turned his head to shoot him a look of warning. It didn't seem necessary because Natasha was wearing a look that could maim, if not kill. "I dare you," came her curt reply. Bruce sucked in a breath of air, puffing his cheeks and quickly turning to get the rest of what he needed from the cabinet.

He guessed that Tony didn't take the dare. When he turned and made his way over, Tony was nowhere to be seen and Natasha was already sitting backwards on one of the wooden chairs, just in front of the beaten up sofa. She also had the chair facing sideways rather than front or back to give him better access to the two wounds. Apparently she was an expert at this. He took a seat on the couch in silence, getting to work on removing the old stitches.

She never reacted. She never flinched. Natasha simply sat in the chair, arms folded over the back of it with her cheek resting on her hands as she stared at the wall. Maybe before Bruce hadn't been able to figure out exactly what it was about her that actually bothered him. But looking at her now? He could see it plain as day. Natasha Romanoff bothered him _because_ she was an expert at things like this. She bothered him because her attitude about her own well-being was so very nonexistent. She bothered him because of the reasons Tony stated. Natasha was a lot like him, she just hid it better. "How exactly did you get these?" he finally dared to ask.

She still didn't look at him and he really wished he understood how she could stare at walls for so long without needing a strait jacket. "Minor altercation. Involved a knife." He frowned and she must have sensed his unhappiness with the answer. "These things happen. In case you hadn't noticed, there aren't a whole lot of people who don't want me either dead or locked in a jail cell or maybe just tossed in a pit somewhere to be tortured. Compared to all those choices, this is nothing." It was true enough, so he knew better than to reply. But her next words had a certain defeated edge mixed into them that bothered him more than anything else about her. "Everybody thinks that I'm off hailing HYDRA or whatever. Besides Steve and Clint." Truth was, he didn't know what to say to that. "I suppose it's only fair. I did all their dirty work. I lied and killed in the service of liars and killers," she quoted Loki and it left him feeling uneasy with how disturbingly calm she said it.

He snipped off the last of the stitches and threaded them out, staring warily at the ugly slices in her skin. They weren't the only things marring her. Thin lines from other scars that he assumed were likely to also be from knives. Most weren't even really noticeable if you weren't actually looking for them, just minor differences in skin tone. An old gunshot wound at her waist that had never healed properly. The more recent and still healing gunshot wound on her shoulder that he had actually _seen_ happen on television a few months back. Thanks to idiotic civilians and their cell phones, all the world had watched as The Winter Soldier came within five feet of putting a bullet through her head before Steve Rogers saved her life. She had a look of fear and surprise in that moment that almost matched the emotion she wore when the Other Guy had nearly killed her. They hailed her as a hero for less than three days before accusing her of hailing HYDRA. He remembered chuckling when she had told the US government and the world to practically shove the thought up their collective asses. Though, she had said it much more politely.

Natasha barely reacted even as he thoroughly cleaned the wound the way it was meant to be, a few uncomfortable shifts and a hiss of discomfort once or twice. That was a feat in itself but he imagined it was because she was too lost inside herself to be anything other than numb. "Not everyone thinks that," he informed her without much thought, setting aside the antibiotics and pulling out the suturing kit. "None of the team thinks that. I never did."

"I'm sure it crossed all of your minds at least once. Besides, I was," she told him, causing him to freeze just before starting the stitches. "For all intents and purposes, I was HYDRA. All of SHIELD was." There was no emotion. Her voice was hollow and empty, causing the pit in his stomach to drop exponentially. "Sure, I made it onto their to-do list along with billions of other people but that doesn't change anything. And you know... the irony is that Steve decided to put his trust in me. Of all the people he could have chosen." He finally started the stitches, trying to ignore the soft and wry huff of laughter that escaped her lips. "But he knew better than to do that right off the bat. Even Captain America can see when someone is the embodiment of everything that has gone wrong with the world in the last seventy years." He paused again at those words and stared at her. But Natasha never looked over at him, probably thinking that if she did, she would have to shut up. "I'm the gray area he didn't know existed. And maybe I was made this way; raised this way. But I'm the one who chose to embrace it."

It was all Bruce could do to finish stitching the first slice in her flesh and move onto the next one on her thigh. "You don't really seem like you're embracing it anymore," he noted.

"Why bother?" and the exhaustion in her voice suddenly showed. She had hid it well, talking like none of this actually mattered up until this point, "Hasn't done me any favors lately." He hesitated with the stitches for a moment when her face actually turned to look towards him. "How come you didn't think I was HYDRA? You don't like me. You don't really even know me."

Natasha's face only looked curious and nothing else. "I don't have to like or know you to know that you weren't—them," he stated, returning to the stitches to avoid her gaze. He realized he was a lot more comfortable when she was staring at the wall rather than at him. "And it's not that I don't like you," he told her next. "I don't have a problem with who you are, Natasha. I have a problem with what you do and with how you act."

"Really?" came the breathy amusement. "All your anger management problems and my _attitude_ is what bothers you?"

"Don't start," he warned her, finishing the stitches. "Just—put clean bandages on those." It was frustrating when he realized she had no intentions of moving yet, clad only in her underwear she just sat there and stared at him, hardly even blinking. "What?"

Her lips pursed slightly and she released a small sigh. "Nothing, never mind," she decided. He watched as she stood, the pain on her one side a lot more visible now that she had been freshly stitched once more. "I didn't cause a bloodbath, by the way, just in case you were wondering," her voice called out from the room as she got dressed. He wondered for a moment if she thought he would actually be relieved by that. He glanced over for a moment and then quickly averted his eyes again, putting his hand to his forehead. She only had pants on and nothing on her upper body.

"If you're leaving, you might as well ask whatever question you wanted to ask," he informed her, doing his best not to look again. It was tempting but he knew a bad idea when it was staring him in the face, or in this case, half naked in his spare bedroom.

There was silence from her as she shifted around through the room for a few more moments. When she finally reappeared near him on the couch, she was fully dressed in a pair of black cargo pants and a jade colored tank top that left little to the imagination that he hadn't already seen. The shirt only seemed to make her eyes seem more green than blue and for a second he just stared at her while she pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, leaving stray strands of crimson colored hair hanging on the sides of her face. If she noticed him staring, she never mentioned it, instead she dropped her black bag on the floor by the door. "Probably best I don't," she told him softly, shrugging. "Besides, I was under the impression you wanted me gone."

He floundered at that before he grimaced slightly. It was barely there but she actually seemed somewhat bothered when she said it, only causing that sinking feeling in his stomach to grow larger. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," and that made him look up at her in surprise. "Then why are you—"

"Because of what you said just a few minutes ago," Natasha answered honestly. "You said you didn't have a problem with who I am, that your problem was with how I act and what I do," he nodded his affirmation, only realizing it was a mistake when her face hardened. "You don't seem to understand that how I act and what I do is exactly who I am," she informed him in an icy voice.

Bruce gave a disgruntled noise, rubbing at his temples again. "Alright... then let me ask you something." He could see her eyes narrow slightly as she debated whether or not to bother placating him before she inclined her head to the side. He took that as a sign of agreement, "What you said before you left. About being less comfortable with what I would do if you didn't uh—take care of the problem?" Her expression never changed, she just shifted uncomfortably before she finally perched herself on the arm of the couch. He had a feeling that her leg and waist were bothering her a lot more than she was letting on, "What did you mean?"

It was something new altogether to see her hesitate and he had a feeling he was broaching a subject that she wasn't entirely comfortable with. Apparently, he had just managed to find the one thing that actually made the usually stoic woman think twice before answering when normally she was blunt and to the point, not bothering to candy-coat things for anyone.

"Natasha."

She pursed her lips, chewing on the inside of her lower lip with complete discomfort. Just when he thought she would never say anything, she proved otherwise, "Alright..." but her voice didn't have much confidence and it made him a little weary. "You mentioned back on the Helicarrier that..." she paused, clearly unsure of how to word whatever it was she wanted to say. "You said—you..."

"Would you _please_ just say it?" Nothing about her ever bothered him nearly as much as her hesitation to tell him whatever it was that she had meant the previous night.

Natasha let out a shaky breath before she let out her next words, "After Harlem, you said that you uh—you know..."

He frowned now, staring at her. "I said what?"

"That you tried to eat a bullet." There it was, without all the tact and hesitation she had been trying to display previously. "And the other guy spit it out..."

Bruce couldn't help but stare at her now because even he didn't quite know how to respond to it. He had forgotten about the outburst in front of the group but now he remembered all of their reactions even if none of them had brought it up since. She was the first to actually try and she wasn't even doing it willingly, he had practically been forced to drag it out of her. "What about it?"

Her eyes actually took on a somber look as she knitted her brows, pursing her lips again at his comment. This was something completely different from her and he really didn't know what to do with it. "Have you ever talked about it? Other than that outburst I mean, _really_ talked about it?" she asked.

"In case you didn't notice, most people aren't very fond of me either," he reminded her, watching her eyes soften at the words.

"I am."

The look of shock that came across his face was something he couldn't stop. Even so, he couldn't manage any words to respond with.

Natasha just gave him a small smile though and she reached forward, giving him a teasing tap on his cheek. "Not too many people actually tell me what they really think of me," she admitted with a shrug. "You'd be surprised how much of a relief it is to really be told the truth, even if I don't particularly like it." She retracted her hand after it lingered for too long, placing it back on her lap, "You don't actually need to talk to me—I just think you should talk to someone. Maybe Tony—"

"Like I said then. I was at a low point..."

"We all hit low points," Natasha told him. "I've been sitting on rock bottom my entire life."

He frowned at that. "And you don't ever wonder if it would just be easier to just...end it?"

She looked a little disturbed by the question but her answer surprised him most. "Every day," she admitted, shifting uncomfortably once again. "Thing is...I don't really deserve to take the easy way out," she told him, shrugging as though it didn't actually matter. "You do, don't get me wrong. It's a little unfair that it's impossible because you're a good man," she explained, finally moving onto the cushion beside him and folding her legs under her. "A little dorky maybe, but a good man."

He chuckled a little at that, which was strange given the topic of their conversation.

"Thing is...the Other Guy? You're not trying to understand him," she pointed out, leaning back against the couch. "You're keeping him in just like you keep everything else bottled up. All that anger? It doesn't come from nothing, it had to come from somewhere." He narrowed his eyes slightly at that. "Truthfully, I don't know too much about your life before the incident. But in my experience, things must have been pretty horrible for you to have so much anger inside that _he_ was created from the gamma radiation."

For the first time he was truly stunned.

"I won't pry," she told him softly. "Or go looking into it," she added. "I just thought I would put it on the table that if you really wanted to get a handle on things, maybe that's the way to do it." Natasha tilted her head to the side slightly, "Not that I'm one to talk. I'm the queen of keeping the past exactly where it's supposed to be. But I also don't have an alter ego busting out on temper tantrums when people rub me the wrong way," the way she said it was almost charmingly amusing and he actually smiled a little. Then she stood up and pressed her lips chastely on his cheek, "I just do my little exorcist act and vomit telekinetic daggers." He felt the heat rise on his cheeks when she winked. "So if you ever want to talk about it, Stark will probably know where to find me."

He frowned now, standing up with her. "You don't have to leave, Natasha."

The small smile on her face fractured a little at that. "Yes I do," she disagreed. "You were right before, I'm really not good for you. I'm not even good for myself but unfortunately, I'm sort shit out of luck on that one." Her teal eyes cast downward towards her feet for a moment before they came back to greet his brown ones. "I know I didn't really act it, or even say it, but I really do appreciate you letting me stay here."

"Now you're just making me feel worse..." and he honestly hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Natasha's head angled to the side slightly and it was almost funny now that he realized why she did that. It was her tell. One of the few things that actually showed she didn't quite understand something that was just said. She would either tilt her head to the side or blink her eyes a few times more than necessary. "Why would you feel bad?" she finally asked, clearly unable to come up with the answer on her own. Before he answered her lips parted and formed a small 'o' shape, as though the reason had suddenly hit her. Suddenly she was sitting beside him again, closer than before, and now she was smiling at him again. "Bruce, I'm not by any means a fragile person. Saying something that I don't like isn't going to break me, push me over the edge or send me out on some crazed massacre," she told him. "There's no reason for you to feel bad. You aren't the first person to not like something about me, you certainly won't be the last."

"See? That—that right there," he interrupted her. "That's why you bother me!" Now she looked almost stunned, clearly taken aback by his words. "You act like nothing can hurt you; Like you're impervious to everything, meanwhile you just walked around this house for a week like a ghost," and now she was blinking more than usual again. "You spent most of the week here looking at the wall and trying not to sleep. That's not exactly a healthy coping mechanism."

She was staring at him with an expression he couldn't quite decipher for a few seconds before she finally spoke again. "It's the best I can do," she finally responded with a small shrug.

"Why?"

For a moment Natasha seemed to be thinking about her answer, as though it were some sort of secret that she didn't think she should be telling him. "The walls are safe," she finally told him. "When I was a kid, the walls were the only thing that couldn't hurt me. They were the only thing that stood between me and everything bad that would happen outside of them," and her face was neutral again. It made him realize that most of what she did and how she acted was _all_ a coping mechanism. "Sometimes the walls screamed—or rather, what happened on the other side of them screamed. Other girls in the facility I was raised in. It may sound a little twisted but I was always glad when the walls screamed." He swallowed thickly at that because she was right; it did sound twisted. "If the walls screamed it meant I was okay for a little while." She shrugged now as though it didn't really matter, "That's why I don't sleep. When I sleep, the wall gets torn down. I lose my safety net."

"Natasha..."

"Anyways," she stood abruptly, ruining any chances he had to get her to open up further. He supposed it was a miracle she had even said that small bit about her past. Like she said, she was a master at leaving the past where it belonged. "I won't apologize for what I did last night... but for what it's worth? Thanks for letting me stay here."

Bruce wanted to tell her that it meant more than she seemed to think it did, but she was already lifting her bag off the floor by the front door and walking out of it. He pushed himself off the couch and went to the door, watching as she made her way towards Tony who was waiting by a jeep. After Natasha tossed her bag in the back of the car, he leaned against the frame of the doorway, watching her get in the passenger's seat before she glanced over and gave him some ridiculous little finger wave. He couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head before waving back. It took a moment for what she had actually done inside the house to really hit him and by then, her and Tony were already gone.

He blew out a breathy laugh of disbelief, "She really is good at what she does." Natasha Romanoff had just manipulated him into _wanting_ to talk.

* * *

 **If you have some idea for something you want to see between any of the characters, feel free to mention it and I can do my best to fit it into the story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note** : Anyone else feel like these chapters are becoming longer? Haha. Just checking.

Throwing this chapter out for **Black' Victor Cachat**. Thanks for the support!

 **Chapter 4** :

It wasn't often Natasha actually enjoyed being around other people, especially not _normal_ people. Although admittedly Clint, Laura and the kids weren't exactly normal. Normal enough, yes, but given that they were a secret family on a secret farm out in the middle of nowhere, still not normal in the exact definition of the word. Unfortunately, a week and a half was too long and she knew better than to think it was wise to stay any longer. Regardless, she sat on the floor of the living room with Lila on her lap, coloring away in a ridiculous princess coloring book. A flash had herself and the little girl in her lap glancing up to see Clint grinning like a fool, camera in hand. She narrowed her eyes and her pride grew a little when Lila gave her father an equally perturbed expression.

He didn't look at all bothered, he was just snickering as he snapped another photo of the two of them making the exact same face. "You sure you need to leave, Nat?" and it was the question she had expected. "You can stay as long as you want. The kids have missed you," the fact that he did too remained unspoken, but it never needed to be said between them.

Natasha smiled at that and rested her chin on top of Lila's head while the girl colored. "I miss them too," she told him softly. "But you know I'm not good at being in one place for too long," she added and she heard Clint chuckle in response.

"Might be an understatement," he tacked on with an amused shake of his head. "Where to next? Not that I'm even sure where you've been for almost three months now."

She stayed quiet for a few seconds with his question as she rolled it around in her head. "Stark offered me a room," she finally told him. "So you know, maybe that will go over better than India with Banner."

Clint laughed at that, "I still can't get the weird little picture out of my head of you and Banner being domestic."

"I'd hardly call that domestic," she scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "I basically beat him up in his own home, then ignored him for a week and then after that," with that her eyes gazed down at the little girl in her lap and she thought better of finishing the end of her stay in India with the murdering of a drug lord and putting his second-in-command in charge after his agreement to stay out of the doctor's business. She hadn't lied to Bruce when she told him she didn't cause a bloodbath. She simply neglected to tell him the details.

Her partner just shrugged as he plopped onto the couch, "Didn't sound like it ended all that bad."

"Maybe not," she agreed with a small incline of her head. "But I'm not exactly known for my exceptional social skills and Banner isn't really my biggest fan, especially now," she reminded him. "Then again, I don't have a lot of fans these days."

"I'm your fan, Auntie Nat."

It was said without thought and Natasha found her lips curving upward of their own volition. She wrapped her arms around Lila a little tighter, pressing her lips to the little girl's temple, "Thank you, Lila."

Clint couldn't remove the smile from his face and he never could when she let down her walls around Cooper and Lila. "You really think Stark is your best option here?" he finally dared to ask. "I thought you didn't like him."

She pursed her lips for a moment as she thought about it. "I didn't," she admitted with a sigh. "Stark may be a—" she covered Lila's ears with her hands, "Narcissistic douchenozzle—but he has a certain endearing quality to him when he's trying to be nice. Even if his idea of nice is ridiculously annoying and not completely obvious."

She uncovered the little girl's ears and watched as she angled her head up to give her something akin to a stink-eye, "I _heard_ that, Auntie Nat. That's another dollar for the swear jar."

Natasha gave a mock-scowl at Clint's daughter before making an exaggerated show of pulling a dollar bill from her pocket. After a minute she held it out to the child and looked over at her friend, "See? That's the other reason I can't stay here."

Clint was snickering.

"A week and a half and your evil-spawns have milked me for twenty dollars."

"Twenty-two, Auntie Nat."

And Natasha released a soft laugh at that, hugging her closer and pressing her cheek to Lila's. "I'm going to miss you, kiddo," she told her.

Lila nodded her head, her tongue sticking out slightly as she concentrated on finishing the picture in front of her. "But you'll come back soon, right?"

She hesitated with that and saw the forlorn expression cross Clint's face as well. It seemed that the kids had gotten used to having their father back and the assumption was being made that Natasha would also show up more often. "If I can," she finally answered. She usually spent at least birthdays and holidays in the Barton house, but she missed Christmas with them five months ago for the first time and both of their last birthdays.

It seemed to appease Lila and the little girl stood, taking the page out of her coloring book and handing it to her. Apparently while herself and Clint had been talking, Lila had colored a new picture of Tinkerbell, making the hair red, the eyes green and the dress black. Her lips once more quirked up until Lila's next words hit her like a sack of bricks, "Are you allowed to take this one with you?"

Any answer she could think to give was lost in the back of her throat. How did you tell a six-year-old that you couldn't take the things she made you? Finally she shrugged and took the picture from Lila's hands, "I think it'll be okay, just this once."

"C'mon, Li," Clint told his daughter. "Get your shoes on so we can take Aunt Nat to the bus stop."

An hour an a half later they waited with her at the bus stop and just as she was about to take her bag and get on, she felt a tug at her shirt. She glanced down at the big eyes of the little girl who called her 'Auntie Nat' and saw the beaten up, tan colored lamb being held up to her. "You should take Sir Lambs-a-lot. He always makes my bad dreams go away," Lila offered softly.

Natasha could help but to look to Clint for help but he was offering nothing. Instead he did something worse, "It's true. Sir Lambs-a-lot does help. She won't let you leave without him."

Lila was nodding her affirmation of Clint's statement and she sighed before squatting down to get on eye level with the little girl. She gently took the stuffed lamb into her hands and studied it before drawing her into an embrace, "Don't know what I'd do without you keeping the bad dreams away, _malyshka._ " The grin on the little girl's face made it worth it and she gave Clint a hug as well before she climbed onto the bus, Sir Lambs-a-lot in hand.

* * *

When Natasha entered Stark's newly renovated 'Avengers' tower she was instantly greeted by Pepper Potts. If she was honest with herself, she wasn't sure how the other woman would feel about her officially coming to stay. If it bothered her, she was doing one hell of a job to hide it. "Ms. Potts, it's nice to see you again."

Pepper just heaved out a soft sigh, "Please, call me Pepper." The woman gave her a friendly smile and it was just comforting enough that she managed to give the tiniest smile in return, "You know, even back when you were Natalie I couldn't convince you to do that."

She couldn't think to do anything but shrug a little indifferently. "Force of habit, I suppose," she finally admitted.

"You look like you could use a drink," Pepper added with another smile. It she was trying to put her more at ease, she was certainly doing a good job, "Or five. You look like crap."

Now Natasha laughed lightly in appreciation of the honesty, "That's a fairly accurate assessment." She saw her eyes travel to her hand, the old beaten up lamb still grasped in her fingertips. To Pepper's credit, she didn't say a word or change her facial expression. She simply acted like it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, though she supposed that when you lived with Tony Stark, a lot of things weren't out of the ordinary.

"I'll show you your room and then we'll hit the bar," she offered up. She kept quiet as they entered the elevator together but Pepper seemed keen to keep the conversation going, "You know, you were the best personal assistant I've ever had." She glanced to the side to see the other woman grinning, "Maybe Tony should make espionage a requirement on the application."

It was so ridiculous that she couldn't resist another chuckle before settling the other woman with a coy look, "Mmm—but then you'd have to worry about them switching sides. I hear corporate espionage is an even bigger bitch than my particular field of expertise."

The attempt at levity was successful because Pepper let out a bubbling laugh in response. "Well, I suppose we each can only attain to having the knowledge of one or the other, Natasha," she agreed with a grin as they exited the elevator. "Most of the time you'll have the floor to yourself. Bruce's room is on this floor as well, at the opposite end of the hall, but when he is actually here he still hardly ever goes in it. You probably won't see much of him except for when I man-handle Jarvis into locking those two idiots out of the lab."

Natasha felt a single eyebrow raise in reaction to that, "You can man-handle an AI?"

"Miss Potts has complete access to all of my functions but she only uses them for that specific purpose, Miss Romanoff," came Jarvis' response. "A pleasure to see you again, by the way."

She snickered at that and noticed that Pepper was chuckling too. "Room is right here," came the other woman's voice and Natasha glanced over as she pushed open the door. Stepping inside it was like walking into an apartment. It didn't just have a bedroom, it had a bathroom and a small living room area. It was hard to decide if Tony had all the rooms as simple and elegant as this one was. The curtains over the window were a pale green, almost sea foam in color. The blanket of the bed blended perfectly with a forest green tone while the sheets and pillows shared the sea foam green of the curtains. Even the carpet held the darkness of the blanket, also forest green in color while the walls were a basic and neutral tan. "I hope this is alright, if there's anything you need, I can get it—"

Natasha could see Pepper pause and stare at her, obviously she realized that she didn't need to offer anything more, "It's uh..." she hesitated, placing her bag on the couch and feeling like she might be soiling the perfection of it all by doing so, "It's more than I need..." She could see the strange look on the other woman's face, "It's perfect. I take it you do the decorating, otherwise I'd be lavished in red and gold with Black Sabbath and Iron Man posters everywhere."

Pepper was grinning now, "Sounds like my bedroom."

"That really doesn't surprise me," she admitted, shaking her head in amusement. It took a moment to realize why Pepper hadn't led her out of the room yet until she saw her blue eyes shift quickly to the stuffed lamb in her hand and then back to her face. "Right..." she muttered, placing Sir Lambs-a-lot on the couch with her bag. "It's um..."

Pepper just waved her off. "Hey, none of my business," she stated with a nonchalant shrug. "Just wait until you see the bar. Fully stocked, all the time."

The corners of her lips curled upward before she could stop them and she was smirking, "You never should have told me that, I'm Russian, after all."

But Pepper simply winked as she locked her arm around Natasha's elbow and led her out into the hall and back onto the elevator, "I'll have Tony make sure there's a surplus of vodka then." If she was really being honest with herself, she actually enjoyed being around Tony's girlfriend. There was something completely simple and fundamentally friendly about the redhead that put her at ease in her presence.

It was when she was being led off the elevator and into the bar that Pepper leaned over and whispered the likely 'forbidden' secret, "Tony has an Iron Man plushy doll." Then she had a devilish smile and Natasha gave an unbidden and unladylike snort of laughter before she could cover her mouth.

Entering into the bar was like walking into the twilight zone. In fact, it wasn't _just_ a bar. It was practically a two-story lounge, clearly equipped to hold one serious party if it had to. Tony Stark spared no expense when it came to his comfort. The grin, however, faded from her face when she saw the defeated posture of someone sitting at the actual bar of the lounge. She recognized the largely muscled frame instantly and she felt her eyes soften almost instantaneously. She looked over to Pepper who just gave a small nod and quickly left the room to them both. Natasha found herself padding over to the stool next to him as she sidled onto the seat. A second later she nudged his arm with her shoulder, "Hey, soldier." Steve's eyes shifted to her immediately and she gave him a tight-lipped smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "You don't look so good."

"Always the flatterer, Natasha," came his sad chuckle. It was amazing how almost instantly she had gone from thinking about none of her problems with Pepper yanking her around and they all came swarming back now that she looked at Steve's melancholic disposition.

His wistful gaze made her feel as depressed as he looked and the fake smile on her lips faded away quickly, "Brooding despondence is supposed to be my forte, Rogers." She leaned over the bar when she caught sight of a half-empty vodka bottle and she pulled it over to her along with a shot glass, "So what has my stoic Captain looking so glum?" she questioned, filling her glass and taking a sip. She made a mental note to tip her hat to Tony later. He had great taste.

"Bucky," Natasha didn't need him to say more than that. It was obvious it hadn't gone the way that he had planned for it to go, if he had found his friend at all. "Do you think that when someone is as far gone as he is—do you think they can come back from that? I mean—I know he's in there. Somewhere..."

It was a fair question; one that she asked herself everyday. Now with Steve asking, she quickly found herself draining the clear liquid in her glass, feeling the delightful burn in her throat before she refilled it. "Honestly?"

"I typically prefer honesty," came his dry response. Somehow hearing Steve use a sharp-tongued tone like she typically did was a lot less inspiring, "I don't expect him to just bounce back into the Bucky I knew. I just need to know that he can come back, at least a little bit..."

She met his pale blue eyes with her teal ones, "I'm not sure." Clearly it wasn't the answer he had been hoping for, but he had expected honesty and that was the most honest answer she could give. "I used to be like him. Though—I'm not sure that's comforting at all," she added and she kept her face neutral as she said it. "I don't know if people like myself and Barnes can ever fully come back from—that." He looked even more defeated then before and she knitted her brows together. A second later she reached her hand out, her slender and soft fingers clasping his jaw gently between them as she turned his face back to her, "Not if someone like you starts questioning our ability to."

It had become unspoken between them since the fall of SHIELD. He had trusted her when he should have trusted no one. Steve had taken a leap of faith and allowed her to attempt at least some form of making amends; of clearing something out of her ledger. It was an unspoken faith he had garnered within her to keep going, to keep pulling herself back out of the abyss that had become her life. Natasha was afraid that if he gave up, she would lose that last thread to cling to. "If Captain freakin' America can't see an end to our darkness, how can you expect us to?" It was brief, but she saw someone linger in the doorway to the lounge. Her eyes barely flickered toward them in time to see Bruce Banner quickly shuffling back out, clearly having realized he was intruding on something personal. Pepper had never mentioned Bruce was _already_ here.

Now that she thought about it, her current position with Steve probably looked strangely intimate to anyone else with her fingers still clasped on his jawline like she might devour his mouth at any moment. The thought never once crossed her mind other than their fake kiss to avoid detection months back. She barely managed not to recoil when Steve's forehead leaned forward and rested against her own, didn't tell him she disliked when others initiated physical contact without her permission. He just needed a friend and for whatever strange reason, he had chosen her. She wasn't the only one on the team who was broken; they were all slowly becoming fractured versions of their former selves, especially with all the recent events unfolding. Natasha released a halfhearted sigh before she slipped off her bar stool and she tried her best not to stiffen when his arms wrapped around her and his cheekbone found it's home atop her crimson hair. Instead she just stayed there, her ear against his chest as she raised a hesitant hand to his back. "People like myself and Barnes, our lives were taken from us. Clint gave me a chance to take it back and that's what you need to be for Barnes. And even when you find him, you'll still have to do a lot of searching to find your friend in him."

"I'm hugging you and you're not running, Romanoff," came Steve's sudden teasing tone. It felt good to have him back. "And when did you become the reasonable one here?"

She huffed out a chuckle and pulled out of his embrace before she gave him an amused glare, "Tell me about it. How unsettling is that?" she questioned before she lifted her glass and poured the entire shot down her throat. "Just so you know. I think Banner now thinks we're sleeping together." The comment had the desired effect because a rosy tint covered Steve's entire face. Natasha could only grin at that as she tapped his cheek playfully and refilled her glass, "Your reputation just got soiled, Spangles." She tipped the glass in his direction and winked, "Apologies in advance for being the devilish woman to take away your old-school values and have her way with you." Yet again, she had the desired effect on him because the blush turned to a grin and then a laugh that actually caused his shoulders to shake. "Now you be honest with me."

"I always am," he reminded her and she felt him studying her carefully.

She made sure to keep her face indifferent before she let the question escape her lips, "Did you really come here to brood, get my less than stellar advice and a rather awkward hug, or are you just checking up on me?" Steve looked almost ashamed and she knew that she was right. Clearly he was multitasking by coming to the Avengers tower. He got a morale boost and he could check on her after nearly four months of not talking, "I suppose I could have called."

"That would have been nice," now he looked a little hurt with the reminder that she had ignored him and she quickly downed the third shot. She narrowed her eyes at him when he pushed the bottle away in a not-so-subtle gesture to stop her from drinking, "A fourth in ten minutes is a little over the top, Natasha, even for you."

Averting her eyes would only say she knew he was right, so instead she just stared him right in the eye. "And?"

There it was. The sigh of disappointment. Somehow in two weeks she had gotten The Hulk's approval in her methods of removing threats to Bruce, caused a six-year-old girl to give her a beloved stuffed animal to keep nightmares away, and disappointed Steve. Natasha quickly snatched the bottle from him and she didn't bother with the glass, instead she made it a point to take a long swig from the bottle.

"The answer isn't at the bottom of a bottle."

"If it was, I wouldn't have a whole lot of questions left, Rogers."

It was disrespectful, of course. She knew that he was just trying to help and it only became clearer with his next words, "When was the last time you slept, Nat? _Really_ slept?" She twisted the cap back on the bottle and placed it back behind the bar. "I take it you haven't."

"That's what the vodka is for, Captain."

Another sigh and this time she actually did avert her gaze from his, "You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

Now his rougher and longer fingers lightly rested on her chin this time, forcing her gaze back to his, "Natasha... you can't do this to yourself forever." She swore she heard shuffling feet again in the door to the lounge, but this time she didn't hear them leave. "You can't just drink yourself through everything and stay awake forever. Eventually the demons are going to come out while you're awake." It was true enough. She saw one in the mirror every day. "Do you talk to anyone? Barton?"

As if Clint needed her packing her darkness onto his life. "No." It was funny now, realizing that Steve was trying to convince her to do the exact same thing that she had tried to do to Bruce a week and a half ago. The footsteps quickly shuffled away again and now that she thought about it, she had given a snippet of her past to the scientist, even if it hadn't been much. She had actually talked to him about the fall of SHIELD, even if she hadn't actually said much at all. Finally she removed herself from Steve's close proximity, "Just leave it alone, Steve."

"This isn't living, Natasha."

"No, it's not," she agreed, inclining her head slightly. "Like I said... it's not always easy for people like me to come back." She gave him a somber smile, "Go back to finding your friend. He needs you."

"So do you."

It shattered her attempts to remain indifferent to the conversation, "Take a few steps off that high horse, Rogers. I don't need anybody." There it was. She effectively distanced herself and pushed him away. "You shouldn't put so much trust in me—in darkness. Take it from someone who knows..." She didn't dare look back as she left because she knew Steve would have that wounded look that would force her to apologize. "It'll swallow you hole," she called out. She didn't have it in her, not today. Probably not for a while.

* * *

It had been several hours since she had dismissed Steve in the most unsettling of ways. His feelings were probably hurt from her words and her actions. Her inability to actually open up to him even when he had just done so with her was probably the worst part of all. For now, Natasha just needed something to keep her busy and Tony seemed like a man who had a lot of things for people to do. It seemed now though, that Steve's feelings were the least of her problems. The problems now at hand were the odd noises that were being emitted from inside the lab and she could actually feel the vibrations on the floor beneath her feet, "Jarvis?"

"Yes, Ms. Romanoff?"

"Stark is doing something idiotic and dangerous in his lab again, isn't he?" she dared to ask the AI.

There was silence for a moment before the Jarvis answered, "As per usual, of course."

She arched an eyebrow up at the answer. "I'm not going to like this, am I?" she mumbled out, heading over to the door.

"Most likely not. Although, might I mention that you tend to find most things that Mr. Stark does unsatisfactory?"

Natasha chuckled, "Don't get cheeky, Jarvis."

"I wouldn't dream of it, madam."

She shook her head at that as Jarvis opened the door and allowed her entry but she never made it more than two steps in before she froze in place. Her mouth hung open in shock for a moment before her statement came out of its own accord. "You son of a bitch..."

"Hello to you too, Romanoff," Tony replied without turning around. She ran her fingers through her hair, finally taking a few steps further into the lab and listening to the snarling and growling of The Hulk. The giant green beast was inside some glass cage, stomping around and ramming into the sides of it. She saw Tony's eyes flicker her way, "Thought Bruce was going to mention this to you hours ago. Guess he didn't." His eyes went back to the cage.

"What the hell is wrong with the two of you?! What are you doing?" she muttered, coming up a few feet behind Tony. If The Hulk cared she was there, it didn't show. He seemed as pissed as he had before she showed up.

She watched him roll his eyes. "We're practicing party tricks, Romanoff. But I don't recall giving you an invitation." All she could do was narrow her eyes at him for that. "So, with all due respect," he waved his hands to the door, still not looking at her, "Shoo." Natasha frowned, looking back over at the glass. For a second she stayed silent and Tony didn't actually attempt to kick her out, not that he could. "Something you want to say?"

"A question, actually," she decided, folding her arms across her chest as the big guy sailed from one end of the tank to the other. "You're trying to bond with him? Get control of him, right?" She grimaced slightly as she watched him hit the glass in front of them and the roaring snarl he bellowed out as he looked back and forth between her and Tony.

She watched him shrug and then nod, "That's about the size of it."

It was all she could do now to keep herself from strangling the man beside her. She settled for running her fingers through her hair, keep her eyes on the cage. "You know what?" and she watched as he finally turned to look at her. "For two people who are supposed to be geniuses, you're both incredibly stupid." Now she rubbed her eyes. "You sit here and you joke and you call this a party trick. But you're not bothering to acknowledge the problem."

"I don't see a problem."

"Of course you don't, Stark. You never do."

Natasha watched as he gave her something akin to a stink-eye. "Are you bringing up my textbook narcissism again?" And maybe it was that she was still reeling from her conversation with Steve, the near five shots of vodka and the sleep deprivation, but this entire scene bothered her a lot more than she thought it should.

She huffed out a groan. "You really can't see it, can you?" she asked in disbelief. "You think that you can get control of him because you're friends with Banner and because the big guy saved you in New York?" and she watched him nod just barely in response. "Well I have news for you, Tony. He's never going to stop being a monster," she could see that he was about to interrupt and she raised her hand up, effectively stopping him. Now she vehemently tried to ignore the guttural growl that came from the glass cage, though it still didn't stop her from flinching, "The thing is, that's not even his fault. It's yours. And Bruce's. And _everyone_ like you."

"Excuse me?" Apparently that was all the billionaire could think to reply with. He was to stunned to come up with anything else.

"You want him to be something you can depend on. A weapon to fight with you. So you stick him inside a cage and expect that he'll grow to trust you." She could see Tony staring at her. "You want him to stop acting like a monster? Then maybe you should stop treating him like one."

"Natasha..."

She narrowed her eyes slightly at him. "Don't—just..." she blew out a frustrated breath and closed her eyes for a second. "The thing is, Stark. Take it from me, being caged in only makes you worse. You're not helping him. You're not making him better, or forming a bond, or earning his trust. You're making things worse."

"I-"

"Stop interrupting-"

"Natasha!" She stared at him with wide eyes. "Just turn around."

She angled her head to the side and stared behind her. She didn't remember reaching back and putting her hand on the safety glass, but at some point she must have. The Hulk was standing _right there_ on the other side, his giant green palm on the opposite side of the glass from hers. There was still a scowl on his face, but he was eerily silent for once as he stared directly at her. Natasha didn't know what to do, or how to react to the scene before her and it looked like the big guy didn't quite know either. She turned the rest of her body to fully face him as slowly as possible, her eyes never leaving his. "No wonder you're always so angry..." she whispered, tilting her head to the side slightly as her eyes drifted to where his palm rested. She allowed her gaze to go back to his scowling face, but there was still something else there layered under all the anger. It looked almost like understanding. She watched as the glass gained little layers of fog where his heavy breaths hit it, "It's hard to be something else when all they can see is all the bad, isn't it Big Guy?" Even through the angry features he presented there was a sudden softness lurking behind his dark eyes. "Open it," she ordered softly.

"What?!" came Tony's disbelieving voice.

"Just do it." He hesitated briefly, but after a moment he must have accepted that she wasn't really offering a choice in the matter and he hit the button. Both of them watched silently as the glass moved agonizingly slow to the side. For a second Natasha actually felt herself stop breathing as it made its way past where her hand and the larger green hand were, leaving nothing but a microscopic patch of air between them. It took another moment for her to release all the air she was holding in and The Hulk seemed to have a multitude of different emotions splaying across his face. The anger that was always settled on in the form of a scowl. The confusion at whatever it was that was currently happening. But most of all it was that small glimpse of understanding that flashed in his eyes; as though he could suddenly understand her just as she suddenly understood him.

The stand-off lasted about two minutes before she dared to do anything further. Finally she moved her fingertips just slightly, causing them to graze his palm. The noise that came from him was almost feral as he flinched back from her and suddenly his former tirade of jumping around the glass prison was beginning again. She fell backwards from the tremor of his jump and she watched Tony hit the button to close the glass panel once more. Just before it finished, she slid through to be on the inside of the cage.

"Natasha!"

But she ignored him. She took a few quick breaths, finding herself in as much disbelief as Tony at what she had just done. Then the Big Guy turned to her, looking alarmingly more pissed than he had before. She slowly slid across the glass, doing her best to seem as nonthreatening towards him as possible. "Monsters _are_ real, Big Guy..." she said softly, lurking across the cage towards him as slowly as possible. "They're inside of everyone. Not just you. Or me. But there's something good inside everyone, too," staying calm was harder then she thought it would be with him growling a few feet away. "It's just that—you and I can't seem to figure out how to slay one and nurture the other..." She heard the snort, but his angered face was tilted sideways as he watched her approach him. "When I was little, maybe five or six, I used to look for monsters under the bed..." he almost looked amused in a pissed off sort of way. "When I was ten, I stopped looking..." she added, "There's no reason to look for the monster under your bed when you realize it's actually inside you."

Natasha held out her hand with her palm up towards him, saw him snarl at the offering. "Next move is all yours, Big Guy..." she told him quietly, shrinking to the ground with her hand still out. She hovered in a crouch, using her other hand to keep herself steady and watched as he heaved out angry and heavy breaths. He never made the next move. Instead he bellowed out a howl that made her grimace and his large hand swiped in her direction. She recoiled back to avoid it, landing on her back and sucking in a desperate breath as she crawled backwards and away. Surprisingly, he didn't give chase. He stayed on the opposite side of the glass cage, snarling and growling and thrashing around. She didn't even notice that Tony had opened the glass just slightly until his arms wrapped around her from behind and yanked her forcefully out before he once again hit the button to close it.

When Tony slowly pulled her up to her feet she figured she must have still been visibly shaking, because he left an arm across her shoulders and kept her closer than either of them were probably comfortable with. "You're insane..." came his worried voice near her ear. "But—that was actually pretty amazing. And utterly terrifying. I'd be more in awe if I weren't currently wondering if I may have wet my pants."

She had to a blink a few times and convince herself to breathe again. After another second she wrenched herself away from Tony and stalked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" she heard him call out. The worry was still evident in his voice.

"Five shots of vodka wasn't nearly enough to deal with this shit."

* * *

 **Just when Natasha calms down a little, whooosh! She gets whiplash. Guess we'll see how Bruce feels about this little incident in the next chapter. Remember if there's anything you want to see, just let me know and I can make my best attempts to work it into the story.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note** : Hmmm... My **Guest** reviewer asked a question that actually had me debating something for a little while. Do I stay canon up to the **AoU** movie, or will I actually give the two a semi-relationship to take place before it? So, I figure we have two options:

 **Option A** – I can stay canon to the movie, where they aren't really romantic or involved until the Ultron.  
 **Option B** – I can stray slightly from canon and give them more than a lightly intimate build-up to what's to come.

The readers may choose, though, originally this was intended for **Option A** , I have no problems doing **Option B** either. I'm also plotting a Post- **AoU** sequel to this. Also remember, you'll actually have to PM or review this one for your vote to actually count because unfortunately, I recently broke my mind-reading cap. :P

 **Chapter 5** :

Bruce had spent several hours not just recovering from his transformation into The Hulk, but also replaying the snippets of his memories that he actually could pull out and remember. It wasn't always easy. Sometimes the memories just came in flashes, as though they were images from a projector, and other times the memories never came at all. Still, the Big Guy had been calm enough, actually bringing the memories a little further to life, even if the calm had only lasted briefly.

It was the dismal facial expression of a certain redheaded assassin that stuck so thoroughly in the forefront of his mind when she whispered the words, ' _You want him to stop acting like a monster? Then maybe you should stop treating him like one._ ' There had been plenty of words from her after that, but given they were the first ones to catch the Big Guy's attention, they were the ones Bruce himself remembered most.

He rubbed his eyes, heading toward the lounge he had originally walked into that afternoon when he found her talking to Steve. Though he supposed it was more like Steve talked to her. The first time he had walked in, he thought he was interrupting some grand romantic moment between the two of them, seeing Natasha hold the good Captain's chin so delicately in her hand. It wasn't until he saw the reversed position, where Steve was then doing the same to her, that he realized it was nothing of the sort. They were two friends trying to coax away the demons of the other. Unfortunately, only Natasha seemed to have succeeded, seemingly as unwilling as himself to let anyone get that far passed her walls. Her walls that, as she had told him so briefly, used to scream when she was a child.

Bruce hadn't thought much of that tiny tidbit of information she had given him before she left Bihar. Not until he watched Steve try and fail to get even that much from her. He hadn't given much stock to that one minuscule statement about her past and the screaming walls, not until the moment she denied Steve anything of the sort. He actually hadn't thought of it at all until he saw her curled up in the lounge, staring at the walls again.

Natasha's face was its usual expression of neutrality, revealing nothing of whatever was going on inside her mind. He was hesitating to make his way towards her, honestly afraid that she might flip him to the floor again for coming near her. Instead her voice rang out in his ears, "I know you're there, my spider-senses are tingling."

But her voice fell flat with it's attempt at levity. It might have still been funny if he weren't so angry with not just her, but with Tony as well. Her for being so reckless and Tony for joining in on her suicidal plan without more than one word of disagreement. Truth was, he expected it from his billionaire best friend, which made it much harder to have the disagreement with him. He made his way around to the couches and took a seat on the one across from her. Looking at her from a front angle said she was a lot less composed then she was trying to lead him to believe. The teal of her eyes just didn't stand as bright anymore, looking faded the more the days passed by. He had come here to talk about what had happened with her and with the Hulk. Instead he was slowly losing that anger when he realized she was searching her 'safety net' for the security that only the walls ever seemed to have given her.

"Something you want to say, Banner?" her chilly voice broke through the parts of him that had sunk into understanding for that small moment and now he found himself frustrated with her all over again.

It was ironic really, because the Big Guy wasn't fussing in the back of his head, he was contentedly staying quiet and leaving Bruce to deal with the redhead on his own. "I could go—but I thought two weeks ago I had an invitation to talk. Unless that changed..." he hadn't meant for his voice to come out as wary as it did.

For a few seconds her face remained impassive until her eyes finally trailed from the wall and onto his face. He couldn't decide if she simply didn't recall the offer or if she didn't really care at the moment. He honestly wasn't sure which one bothered him more. Her face never changed, her eyes still looked vacant and empty and he realized it was the same face she had worn after he had interrupted her nightmare that first night staying with him. In fact, this seemed even worse then that night. When she had broken from her stupor that night, she had been quiet and her face had become that usual blank slate, but this one was different. This vacant expression was hollow and lost and fundamentally disturbing on an entirely new level. This face made him realize that whatever dream she had this time had been horrifyingly worse to the point where she seemed almost lost.

"I can listen if you want," her voice held the smallest hint of recognition to her former offer, but the offer she gave now seemed almost forced.

He lost the will to be angry with her in that moment, the moment where she was willing to let her own issues go to make way for his, "I uh—I hope you don't take this the wrong way? But—you look like you need to talk more then I do..." Those pale teal eyes didn't do their usual abundance of blinking. Natasha's head never angled just slightly to the side; not this time. Instead she just continued to stare at him like she was waiting. "But I guess you're not going to do that."

"You'd be guessing right, Doctor." Bruce sighed and ran his fingertips through his hair, but then she spoke the next words that got the fire burning in him once again, "I take it you're not thrilled with my earlier adventure." He had a feeling she did that on purpose.

Her calling it an adventure just fueled the flames and he was really glad to have sat down at a distance from her. He might have actually wanted to strangle her for a second, which likely would have led to her stabbing him, then he would turn green. It would all be a giant disaster. "That's an understatement, Natasha," he warned her. The fire was fueled further when she shrugged as though it didn't matter, "I expect stupidity on that level from Tony, but not from you, you're too smart for that."

There it was. Natasha's signature quirk of the eyebrow as she let his words sink in, "Did you just, in the nicest way possible, call me stupid?"

"I'm saying what you _did_ was stupid," he groaned out in disbelief. "You have the least amount of self-preservation of any single person I know. You act like you're trying to live, trying to run from whatever might hurt you. You say you're trying to survive and yet you throw yourself headfirst into things that will, undoubtedly, get you killed one day."

She still wasn't reacting. She was just sitting, legs folded like a pretzel beneath her as as she studied him with a hollow stare and waited for him to continue.

"How can you not see a problem with what you did back there?" he dared to asked. "How can you not see that—" he had to stop and rub furiously at his temples. The ache of a migraine was forcing it's way through and for just a second her saw her eyes flicker with concern before it faded back to nothing. Suddenly he wasn't even sure it was ever there to begin with. "You said back in Bahir that the reason you were going after those men, stopping them from returning, was because you didn't want to see what happened to me in the aftermath if the—the Other Guy, came out," he mentioned.

Natasha still had no visible reaction. It was apparent she really didn't understand where he was going with this and it only served to frustrate him further. "I thought we already talked about that," she finally stated, still no emotion in it along with her lack of facial expression.

Bruce had to assume he actually _looked_ angry this time because suddenly she did react, her head angled just slightly to the left, her eyes looked a little wary and she stiffened. All of it was almost imperceptible, but given the nothingness she had going on before, he saw it all happen. She didn't seem to understand what she did to anger him, but she did become aware that she had done so. "We did talk about that. Now I'm talking about this."

"I'm failing to see the connection."

"You thought that my comment about eating a bullet after the incident with Harlem was bad?" he questioned, and he gave her some credit when she actually grimaced at that one. "How do you think I would have felt if he had killed you earlier?" he actually heard his voice crack a little at that one.

Realization dawned on her features almost immediately as her lips parted; his name so soft and hesitant from her lips, "Bruce..." He watched her stand and move over to the couch he was seated on, curling herself onto the corner of it with her arms folded around her knees, "I didn't—I never meant for that. I didn't think—"

"No. No, you didn't think at all," the words rolled out in pained frustration and he was on his feet, pacing the small area in front of her. "Harlem was devastating. It haunts me every day and I still—I still get haunted when I see _your_ face on the Helicarrier!" He didn't dare look at her. He could see in his peripheral that her eyes were a little wider with his revelation and now he gave her another, "And now you've added to _another_ nightmare I'll never be able to stop seeing."

Surprised didn't even begin to explain his reaction when her fingers loosely coiled around his wrist to stop his pacing. He stiffed at her touch, flinching slightly and she pulled her hand back as though he had burned her. Still, she had effectively stopped him in his tracks. "I—I'm sorry..." the words seemed so foreign from her, especially when he actually believed she meant the words. It wasn't like the empty apology she had given him the first time she went and stripped her clothes off in front of him. This one sounded like it almost hurt her to say it.

"You're making it incredibly hard to be angry..." he informed her with a sigh. When he finally dared to look over at her again, she was back to her former position and the mask was on again. "And then you do that..." he mumbled, dragging himself back onto the opposite side of the couch. He sank into the back of it and looked over at her as he tried to figure out what exactly had her so much more closed off then usual, "Are you—okay? Was it—was it the Other Guy?" he managed to get out. Realization dawned on his features and he closed the gap between them on the couch, leaving hardly any room, "You're not hurt, right? Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," came her quick reply.

He breathed a little easier with that. Still, there was something haunted in her empty gaze and it was mind-numbing to see it. Especially when she was trying to sink further into the couch. Further away from him. He inched away a little to give her the space she seemed to be looking for, "I guess the walls aren't working for you today?" It didn't really seem to get her attention the way he hoped it would, instead she just appeared to fall further into the depths of her own mind than she had been before, "Natasha?"

' _Sometimes the walls screamed..._ '

That statement still rolled through his mind like some twisted little horror movie. From the way she continued to retreat further into herself he could only assume that the walls _weren't_ screaming for her, not tonight. He glanced up at the clock, seeing now it was just after three in the morning. She needed the walls to scream, he knew that, it made her feel safer. It made her think she was alright, even just for a little while, she had told him at least that much. But it was all he knew about her. Stories got passed around like candy about her, though he couldn't fathom that some of them were true. Some said she was actually a machine, programmed for nothing but subterfuge and murder. Some say she's actually an alien from another planet. One thing usually rings through each ridiculous story though, one she had confirmed when she originally 'requested' his assistance in Calcutta. She had been trained to be who she was since she was a child.

Bruce could really only think of one thing that used to help him through childhood. Help him through the horrors of his own life. It _seemed_ like a decent idea to see if it might help her as well. "Let me show you something." She was looking to the wall again, "Natasha?" He stood up and waited hesitantly, "I think it'll take your mind off—off whatever is bothering you." It seemed to get her attention, because her teal eyes slowly inched off the wall to look at him before she disentangled herself from the strange position on the couch and stood as well. He headed out of the lounge, trying his best not to keep peering over his shoulder to check and see if she was following. She did, however, have the quietest footsteps of any person he had ever met.

Even the quick trip on the elevator was quiet and she was fidgeting in the back corner of it, eyes glancing up at the ceiling. For half a second, he believed she might actually escape through the emergency hatch on the top before they ever made it to their floor. It was an entertaining thought and he must have showed it somehow, either chuckled or smiled, because she was giving him the strangest look.

"What's so funny?"

He had definitely given himself away. He let out a sigh, which came out more as a chuckle again before he dared to explain it, "Every time you look up—I sort of get this little image running through my head of you spy-busting your way out the emergency hatch up there." For a full thirty seconds he thought he might have actually offended her, but then her lips just sort of curled upward slightly into the barest of smiles.

Then Natasha inclined her head just a little, a slight look of impishness crossing her previously void face, "I only climb out of moving elevators for more dire circumstances." He shook his head with a small smile. "I'd hardly consider you as a dire circumstance."

He glanced back at her, a little dumbfounded by the statement, "Oh yeah—because my anger problems don't lead to dire circumstances."

She didn't seem to enjoy his sarcasm because she knitted her eyebrows together and gave him a look that said she was more than a little unhappy with him. "You don't give yourself enough credit," she finally stated, turning her face to the doors of the elevator as they opened. He could feel her presence remaining behind him as she followed him, "He's a part of _you_ , Bruce. I told you, there's no way that anger like his comes from nowhere. He's that angry because _you're_ angry. He's you—a bigger, greener, angrier you."

"He's not me."

"Bruce-"

"He's _not_ me!"

To his relief, Natasha didn't flinch or back away when his voice took on a familiar snarl. The Hulk didn't seem to appreciate the comparison either. Now her face was once again expressionless, and for once, that actually served to calm him back down. Unfortunately, both of them recognized that someone else was currently on their floor as well and they turned their heads at once, seeing Pepper standing there. The anger that flooded through him faded just slightly at the sight of her and he gave her an apologetic look as she glanced between the two of them.

Unfortunately, Natasha also seemed to have thought twice now about his plans to take her mind off the problems currently wreaking havoc in her head. Her words came out as empty as her face now looked, "Guess I should have gone with the grand elevator escape."

He rubbed his eyes, trying to ebb away the pain of his headache as she turned and went to her own room.

It worked a little, even as Pepper's voice pulled through his ears, "You two really need to work on your conversational skills. They lack a certain...finesse." Bruce thought that was a rather mild way of putting it, but he didn't bother to mention that. "Look... I don't mean to pry. But Jarvis alerted me earlier that Natasha—" she paused now, like she might be giving away some great secret. "Jarvis just said something wasn't right when she woke up."

He imagined it was more nightmares. Just like the ones he would hear her have in India, "Take it from someone with experience, Pepper... don't try to check on her after that."

"It's just-" Pepper seemed to hesitate again before finishing, "Tony told me what she did in the lab and I know you're probably not happy with it." He felt her hand give a firm and comforting squeeze on his shoulder, "But if Steve's kicked puppy face when he left here this afternoon was any indication—maybe you should consider just leaving well enough alone."

"You mean leave Natasha alone."

Pepper shrugged. "Or take a page out of her book," came the bold suggestion. He had absolutely no idea what that meant. "Consider her—hmm..." she put her pointer finger to her lip in thought. "Okay, I never said this, but consider her like Tony. When he was _dying_ he didn't even tell anyone. SHIELD had to send in Natasha undercover in Stark Industries just so they could help him. Well, help him to help himself. She seems a lot like that. You're not going to convince that woman to just take help if you offer it. You need to sneak it in, without her noticing."

"You want to—and let me make sure I'm hearing this right..." he started, huffing out another sigh, "You want to do stealth help on an ex-Russian spy?"

She chuckled at that, "Stealth help? Really, Bruce?"

He could only give her a sheepish smile at that, "She did take Tony's help. Twice now."

Once again, Pepper shrugged with a bit of indifference, "Yeah well, that was accepting a plane ride to get her off the grid. And taking a free room in the tower her _team_ is based out of. Talking about problems and feelings? That's something _nobody_ on this team seems to understand how to do. Except maybe Steve, and sometimes even that's questionable." He supposed that was true enough and he chuckled a little when she gave him a knowing smile, "Anyway. I'll go back to bed now—good luck with Operation: Stealth Help."

"You're not going to get over that, are you?"

"Absolutely not."

* * *

Bruce didn't see her again until three nights later. He was sitting in what Tony dubbed the 'theater room' and watching a movie when he felt her presence behind him. Somehow when Natasha entered a room it was like the entire air inside it changed. He couldn't quite put his finger on why that was, of course, maybe it was just the tension that always seemed to build up when they were near each other. He finally dared to turn around and look at her, watching her eyes as they remained planted on the giant television screen, "You could just sit down and watch the movie, instead of lurking in the doorway."

Her eyes flickered from the screen to him and he watched as she seemed to mull the idea over in her head before she spoke, "Would it bother you if I did?"

It wasn't what he expected her to say and he frowned, "Is that why I haven't seen you for the last few days?" That imperceptible shrug fell off her shoulders and his eyes softened a little, "It won't bother me if you sit and watch a movie." Her face was unresponsive and she still didn't leave the doorway, in fact, he had the niggling feeling that she might turn and leave, "Natasha—please just sit down and watch the movie."

Bruce almost laughed as she slowly moved into the room and proceeded to plant herself onto the couch. Natasha left as much space between them both as she physically could and they sat in a somewhat uncomfortable silence as the movie played. When he dared to glance over he saw the most ridiculously perplexed expression on her face and a few times her lips parted like she wanted to speak before suddenly snapping shut. It was a few seconds later when the words finally escaped her, "What the hell are we watching?"

He couldn't hide the grin when he looked over at her, "Sunset Boulevard, it's a classic, how can you not know?"

"I don't really watch TV."

"Nothing?"

"Only when Clint makes me," she insisted with a shrug, "And his tastes vary toward the Disney variety."

He actually laughed when she said it and shook his head. "Barton watches Disney movies?"

Natasha glanced over at him and he knew he was still grinning, "I think I've been forced to watch Frozen about a dozen times. I'm trained to endure nearly every form of torture imaginable. Nobody trained me for Elsa and Anna."

"He—he..." Bruce was working his hardest not to laugh. "Barton watches Frozen?"

"Mmhmm," she answered with a nod. "Admittedly, I do like Olaf, but that never leaves this room."

He couldn't help himself. He actually laughed now just at the image of Clint forcing the redhead to watch Frozen.

"It's not funny," Natasha insisted and he smirked when she gave him a death glare. A moment later though, she smiled back at him. "Alright. It's a little funny."

"A little?"

"Bruce, shut up."

He laughed again and shook his head, "Alright—okay... I'll uh—I'll let it go."

For just a moment the corners of her lips were twitching and he could actually see her trying to hold back the grin. It didn't work, because when she actually glanced over at him, there was a slanted smile gracing him with it's presence, "Don't go supernerd on me, Bruce. I already have Clint in that position and I'm not sure there's room for two in my life."

"Alright, alright," he agreed, effectively managing to snuff his laughter. "So—Sunset Boulevard. It's from 1950, basically it's about a former actress," he pointed to Gloria Swanson on the screen, "Norma, who used to do silent movies and refuses to accept that now she's uh—uh..."

"A has-been?"

He chuckled, "That about sums it up."

Her eyebrows watched up, "So who are these two men living with her?"

"That's the guy she hired to be the editor of a script she wrote," he explained, pointing the man out. "She puts him up in the mansion. And that's Max. He's uh—her butler, sort of."

Natasha's eyes studied the film for a while longer in silence, the same perplexed expression never quite going away. He couldn't resist peering over at her occasionally and seeing how that same confused expression never actually left. It was an unusually amicable silence between them and she never said a word until half-way through the end credits, "Shit... that's messed up."

Now he laughed.

"I mean... aren't movies supposed to be all 'happily ever after' and crap? Not that I'm complaining, I'm definitely okay with this whole dark and twisty ending thing."

"So you liked it?"

"Mmm..." she gave a small inclination of her head in affirmation. "I mean. He sort of deserved it," she mentioned and he couldn't help but chuckle. "He was a bit of a dick. Of course, she was bat-shit crazy, but still..." He watched as those teal eyes settled him with a quizzical and amused look, "You never struck me as the type to watch movies."

He waved that off, "Only the classics." He had looked away for a minute and gotten up to put the movie away. When he turned back around, she was quietly watching him, "You really never watch movies?" Natasha merely shrugged at the question and he could only assume that was a no. "What about when you were younger?"

Her brows knitted slightly, "No." Her head tilted just slightly to the side as a puzzled look crossed her face again, "Actually. That's not technically true." _Technically?_ "I remember that stupid part of Snow White," she admitted, her face going from puzzled to indifferent once more. "You know—that part where the dwarfs find her and she says ' _If you let me stay, I'll wash and sew and sweep and cook'_? But that's about it."

It was the strangest thing to remember, especially with all the different parts of that movie.

"I think it was in a classroom."

"A classroom?"

Natasha just nodded. "Yeah, playing on one of those weird old projectors. I just remember that because all the other girls were repeating the line as it was being said," her voice came out more curious than anything and she seemed to be thinking about it for a few more minutes before her face changed to something akin to recognition. "Oh..."

"What is it?"

She just shrugged, "Probably nothing. I just—some of my memories as a child are hazy when I try to look back." That didn't exactly sound like nothing to him. "Just, it seems a little ritualistic and brainwashy to me. I think it's how we learned to use American accents. Learned to make ourselves seem more helpless, like girls were supposed to be. You know—fragile, not...murderers."

"Why is it hazy?" He let the comment about murderers go.

Bruce watched as those teal eyes shifted toward him once more and he was waiting for her to simply stop talking. Instead she surprised him, "I've been trying to fight through fabricated memories since I left the KGB," she admitted, her voice making it sound like it meant nothing. "Sometimes I'm still not sure what's real and what they made me believe," she explained. "I remember a fire and a KGB soldier pulling me out of my home as it burned. " She shrugged, shaking her head. "I remember the sound of..." now she paused and the look on her face seemed hopelessly disturbed. "I remember my mother's screams, and that he just left her in there to burn. But I can't remember her face..."

"Natasha..."

She tensed up and stood immediately. It seemed like she just realized what she had done, what she had revealed. Then she merely turned on her heel and walked right out of the room. Stealth help may have succeeded on one level, but he didn't imagine she was going to talk to him again for a while, until she reappeared five minutes later with a bottle of vodka and dropped down onto the couch again.

"Are you—"

"Can we just—not?" came the request as she took a swig straight from the bottle.

Bruce knew better then to push it. Instead he simply nodded and pulled out another movie, "It's uh—it's Casablanca."

"Another classic?"

"Mhhmm."

"Okay."

* * *

When Bruce didn't see her again for a week after that movie night, he started to question it. It wasn't that he didn't think she would avoid him, in fact, he knew she was probably doing just that. Even so, a week without even a single run-in, not even in passing, was throwing him off. "Jarvis?"

"Yes, Doctor Banner?"

"Is Natasha still in the tower?" he questioned the AI.

There was a moment of silence, as though Jarvis was considering whether or not to tell him the answer. Finally the AI gave in, "Miss Romanoff has not been in the tower for the last two days, Doctor Banner."

"So... she left."

"On the contrary, sir. Miss Romanoff is doing a favor for Mr. Stark. He recently came into some intelligence on a HYDRA compound in Samara, Russia. Miss Romanoff volunteered herself to infiltrate the compound and see what information she could find on the location of Loki's scepter or any other HYDRA compound locations."

That left him with an unsettling feeling in his gut, "Alone?"

"Yes, sir."

Bruce ran his fingers through his hair and sat down at the desk in the lab, "Is there a way to know how she's doing?"

"Of course. The new suit that Mr. Stark made for her not only tracks her location and her vital signs, it also includes video feed from the Avengers patch on her chest."

"Can you bring that up for me, Jarvis?"

"Right away."

He watched as the screen appeared before him, one of Tony's favorite inventions. He leaned back in the seat, watching as the feed came online but there wasn't anything actually happening. All he saw was darkness and occasionally Natasha's hands like she was crawling. "Does she have comms?"

"No, sir. Though we can hear her, Miss Romanoff cannot hear us."

Bruce hadn't realized there was any sound. Natasha was moving silently along whatever it was she was crawling through, "What exactly is she doing..." he muttered aloud.

"I believe she is inside the ventilation system."

"Should have seen that answer coming," he replied with a chuckle. "What's her extraction plan?"

"Miss Romanoff did not mention an extraction plan."

There was that unsettling feeling again, lurking in the pits of his stomach. "You're telling me if she gets caught, she has no way out?"

Silence for a moment and then, "According to SHIELD files, there have only ever been two occasions where Miss Romanoff was captured when it was not her intention."

"That's not exactly comforting, Jarvis..."

"I assure you that Miss Romanoff is the most qualified infiltrator for this job, Doctor Banner."

He scrunched his nose up at that, watching as Natasha's movement stopped over a grate in the vents. It was the first time he saw anything besides her hands and the video was staring down into a room. The only thing inside it that he could see was a chair. Bruce didn't give it a second thought until her vital signs to the right of the screen started spiking, "What's that?"

"Miss Romanoff appears to be in distress..." came Jarvis' answer. It sounded about as worried as an AI actually _could_ sound, "Her heart rate has increased significantly."

She only stayed where she was for another moment before watched her fingertips inch through the grate and she lifted it up and into the vent with her. A moment later he watched as she angled her body around and then she dropped out of the vent and into the the room. Even now, he couldn't see anything more then the chair and she seemed keen on stepping around it towards the door. Before her hand ever reached the knob, the door opened. Bruce recognized the one man among the many standing there almost instantly and he heard the spike rise again in Natasha's vitals.

Baron Wolfgang von Strucker.

"Hello, Natalia."

 **()()**

 **Don't shoot me. I promise you won't wait long! There was originally more to this chapter, but it wound up being ridiculously large in length and I found this was the only point easily stopped at to flow into the next chapter the way I prefer it to.**

 **Also, the whole 'Snow White' part, actually comes from the Black Widow Training scene in Marvel's Agent Carter. It's actually fairly twisted to watch that part...but as a twisty person, I'm all 'Haaaaay. I can use that!'.**

 **Remember to vote for Option A or Option B in PM or Review, whichever you prefer. Without my mind-reading cap, I don't know what you're thinking.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note** : So, I suppose I didn't actually need my mind-reading cap. As it turns out, you guys practically _all_ want the same thing. **Option B** has been chosen with an end score of 1-11. You romantic bunch of saps **:P**

I'll shout this chapter out to **SweetChi** for such amazing comments to keep me going forward! It's truly appreciated! And try not to be offended that my most dark and twisty chapter yet is dedicated to you, as I do dark and twisty a lot better than I do fluffy and happy, it just means I like you. **xD**

 **Chapter 6** :

Being back in Russia was a reason not to be a fan of her current position. The city of Samara itself was actually quite beautiful, having spent so long untouched by the outside as a closed city. Travel and even residency to the city had been restricted when Natasha was a child, requiring authorization to enter and leave it. Now she was back in the motherland for the infiltration of the HYDRA compound she offered to check out for Tony, to see if she could pull any information from it on the location of Loki's scepter. The trickster's weapon left a foul taste in her mouth when she remembered so vividly how in just seconds it had been used to turn the most trustworthy person she knew into a shell of his former self. Forcing a power so raw into his mind that he had been unmade, his mind renovated to bend to Loki's will; A will that had been molded to force him to kill her in a way Clint himself would never, even in his former nightmares, invoke upon her.

Natasha still had horrifying nightmares where he actually did it, and though she never once admitted that to him, she had a feeling he knew. His wife, Laura, once told her that he had nightmares where he did it, too. Her best friend hadn't slept well for months, afraid to see his partner's cold and bloody corpse, murdered by his own crimson painted hands.

Those dreams were the nights she woke up unable to breathe and unable to comprehend reality, the nights she felt a sting in her eyes from tears she refused to let fall.

She never admitted to anyone that the ones that plagued her most, that poisoned her to the very fine edges of her darkened soul, were the ones where she couldn't get Clint back; the nightmare where she killed him without a blink of hesitation. In the nightmares where he sent her black soul to the hell she thought she deserved, she always begged him not to. In the ones where she unmade him for eternity, she would smile as she dragged a knife over his throat, agonizingly slow. She would watch that lively glaze leave his grayish eyes and she would feel the sweet release of freedom from a debt she owed as she watched the blood flow like a fountain; as the pages of her ledger poured red like never before.

Those were nights Natasha woke up screaming. The nights she feared what she knew was the reality of who she used to be before the archer rescued her from the pits of her nefarious abyss, the reality of what she would have become had he not given her that single chance to right her wrongs. Those were the nights she wished he hadn't. This was why Bruce had been so angry with her, so enraged when she confronted The Hulk in his containment cell. She was his nightmare and _she_ had caused it.

It took effort to shake those thoughts from her head, to stop reliving them again when she was _awake._ That wasn't suppose to happen, she wasn't supposed to see them when she was awake, at least, not so vividly _._ It left her with an unsettling feeling as she slowly inched her way toward the building, pulling off a vent on the side and sliding in. It was too late to turn back because she had a 'bad feeling', so she shook it off as she lithely crawled her way through Clint's favored method of trespass. Air ducts were such a simple approach that she hardly ever used them, but there was something about the place that gave her a foreboding feeling. When she glanced through grates she passed by, she never once saw a single person. That in itself told her something wasn't quite right.

She continued through them for several minutes before she paused, stopping as she stared through the grate below her. From the intel that she had, this was supposed to be the room with the central mainframe. This was _supposed_ to be the room where she would hack their system and get any and all information pertaining to HYDRA and the scepter. Instead, she saw only a wooden chair. Her breath hitched slightly, the memory grazing it's way through her mind.

 _All the screaming beyond the walls, all the crying that was heard echoing from the minuscule air vents of the empty and colorless bedroom. The bed rested in the corner of her room, a small, twin-sized and thin mattress resting only on a black metal frame. The blanket was a drab and muted gray, the color inside the room was only ever gray. Even the floors were concrete, leaving her bare feet frozen each and every time she was forced to step on it. On the two metal posts at the head of the bed, a set of handcuffs were attached to each side. In the night, those cuffs remained tightly locked around your wrists until Madame B. came to release you from your bonds in the morning._

 _Each day was the same. You woke up and waited for her. When she released you, you followed. You never spoke unless you were spoken to. You never scream, you never cry, you never react. The ones who cry never last long. The ones who scream are gone even faster. Their ghosts haunt the halls, they haunt Natalia's dreams, because one of those ghosts were created from her ten-year-old hands. A twelve-year-old named Kseniya Lubovich._

 _She used to be in the the overflow room with all the other girls, until she killed Kseniya in training four days prior. All of their beds were lined up in the room, all of them slept together in one giant pit of bodies. Kseniya had always been in the bed right next to her and Natalia easily learned that she could put the older girl at ease. On that morning of her death, she had shared her hidden food with her the second the handcuffs were removed in the morning. She shared because she knew that acting like a friend, acting like she was nice, was one of the best advantages you could hold over the other girls._

 _It wasn't supposed to be to the death. It never was, not unless one of the girls showed weakness, something that Kseniya had done. A simple sparring session had their kicks greeting each other with equal fervor, punches ringing true on each of their faces. But she had gotten the upper hand on the older girl, getting her arm around her neck and choking her. Kseniya had tapped on her hands, effectively giving up. You didn't give up, especially not in front of Madam. When Natalia had looked to Madam, the older woman had a stern look and had given her a slight nod of the head._

 _She had snapped the other child's neck within seconds of receiving the order._

 _Only the best got moved to their own rooms and Natalia had become the best; she remained determined to stay the best, to stay better than the best. The screams seemed much louder from her room by herself, but the truth was, she preferred the solidarity. If someone came into her room, she knew that meant it was her turn. There was no more wondering as they paced up and down through the small aisles between the beds. No more racing of your heart as you hoped that the next screams wouldn't be yours._

 _It was Red Room's favored choice for conditioning the perfect killing machine. Torture in ways that a child's mind would have never fathomed. The worst was the chair, it was always the chair. Simple and wooden, but the arms of the chair had little metal plates attached atop them and were laden with blood. The back of it also held a vertical and thin metal plate that was constantly lathered and painted in crimson. Sometimes it was dry and other times it was still fresh when you were brought into the room; Natalia hated it most when it was fresh._

It took a moment to calm herself again before she reached her fingertips through the grate. Within a moment she seamlessly and silently pulled the grate up into the vent. Settling it aside, she angled her feet through it as she slipped downward and landed with the smallest tap of her feet on the concrete below. Natasha knew that she should have stepped away. She should have turned back when the room wasn't what it was supposed to be. But she was never one to back down from something, even when it seemed wrong.

She sidestepped the chair sitting front and center in the room as she made her way to the door. Just as she reached out for the knob, it twisted on it's own and the door swung out of its own accord. It was instinct that had her stepping backwards as the men before her all stepped into the room, one among them standing out. She recognized him instantly as Baron Wolfgang von Strucker. The close-shaven sandy blonde hair was nearly nonexistent, his dark eyes leering at her. The stubble along his face only enhanced the crooked grin that formed as he looked at her.

"Hello, Natalia," the German accent flooded her senses, the words coming out in a low and harrowing baritone. That same foreboding feeling was back with a vengeance and all her senses were on alert. "Natalia Alianovna Romanova," Strucker snapped his fingers and the men instantly charged her.

She grabbed the arm of the first man to reach her, using it as leverage to twist herself around behind him and driving the prongs of her Widow's Bite cuff's into his neck, dropping him in convulsions from the discharge of electroshock he received through them. When the next two men came towards her, she threw her arms out and watched the two hidden knives sail from underneath her cuffs and into the neck of each man.

Running forward, she put a hand on each of their shoulder's as they dropped, using them to vault herself into the air and grabbing hold of the fourth and fifth assailants around their necks as she drove them to the floor from the velocity of her movement. She could hear the _snap_ of their necks as they twisted at an unruly angle during the landing.

Natasha wasted no time as she moved smoothly and gracefully, launching up to her feet and jamming her elbow into Strucker's neck as she shoved him against the wall. She had to breathe through the rage and adrenaline coursing through her for a moment before she forced her words out in a dangerous tone, "You knew I would be here! How?"

All Strucker did was choke out a laugh. "Ahhh... the confidence," came the amused words. "Perhaps you have been astray too long. You are losing your touch."

She heard the footsteps behind her and she shoved Strucker aside as she turned toward them, but nobody was there and a frown found its way to her face. When she turned back to where Strucker should lay, he was gone as well. She moved her feet immediately to lead her out into the hallway, watching as Strucker ran like the rat he was, while he made the turn around the corner down the hall. Her legs led her forward before her mind could register that it was a horrible idea.

When she reached the corner and made the turn, a rough and callused hand gripped her throat and her back hit the wall with enough force to send the air right from her lungs. Natasha had to drag the oxygen in through his grasp, her feet completely off the ground as she hung against the wall. She caught a look at the man now, his chocolate eyes and reddish-brown hair, she _knew_ him. Nikolao 'Niko' Constantin, known as The Wolf Spider. He was the first and only man trained by Red Room. The KGB considered him their biggest failure. The man was a killing machine, efficient at murder but unable to be handled, unable to take orders.

She lifted her arms, slamming the sides of both of her hands into the side of his neck and it just barely loosened his grip enough for her to fall through his grasp. Almost immediately she rammed her shoulder into his gut, trying to force him back into the wall opposite of her. His feet dragged back a mere centimeter before his elbow slammed into her midsection. It was all she could do to stay on her feet, to breathe through it, and she dug her Widow's Bite into his shoulder blades, letting the current of shocks course through him.

For a moment she thought that was it when he dropped to the ground. Instead, his hand moved with unbelievable speed, and a knife she didn't even know he had, lodged itself into her thigh. The gasp left her lips before she could contain it and she stumbled a few steps away. Within a few more seconds Niko was on his feet. The only thing she could do to stop his sudden plan to use his body as a battering ram was to yank the knife from her leg, burying it into his shoulder just as he slammed into her.

The force careened her into the corner of the wall and the edges of her vision blackened. Niko was groaning and growling and it was a noise that was nearly as feral and unnerving as The Hulk. She couldn't catch her breath and get her vision to align correctly before he was standing over her with the knife still sticking out from his bloodied shoulder. His hand reached down and crushed her neck in another vice grip as he pulled her back up to her feet. Before she could react he was moving down the hall and it was all she could do to keep her feet moving as she was hauled backwards down the hall by the neck.

Her attempt to get her gun only led her to an empty holster and she couldn't remember losing it, though at some point it seemed to have disappeared. The movement didn't go unnoticed because he lifted her in the air and proceeded to, once again, slam her back into the wall. Natasha's next move came as a surprise to herself _and_ to him. She didn't understand exactly why she did it until her fingertips gripped the neckline of his uniform and she forced his mouth to meet her lips almost feverishly. The images of her younger self flowed fluidly in that moment.

 _When you became the best, Natalia learned that you also trained with the best. She had never been aware before Kseniya's death that there was anyone training here who wasn't female. Niko Constantin was only a year older than herself and she met him when she was eleven years old. It turned out that she and him were equally matched, neither of them ever failing their training. It also meant that they were allowed to interact with one another for the sake of 'sharing experience and strategy'. Most times, they didn't actually do so, instead talking of ways to avoid the nightmare that had become their lives._

 _Niko had been the one to tell her to watch the walls. He had been the one to tell her that only the walls could never hurt her. When he was twelve, he was still sweet and kind, still a little too naive to be a Red Room trainee. He had been protective, telling her all the bests ways to stay strong. "When you hear the walls scream—just remember that it means it is not you. If the walls are screaming, then everything is still okay. Just keep your eyes on the walls and you can get through anything. That is what I have learned, Talia."_

" _You do not hurt me, Nikolao."_

" _But I will, and you will hurt me. It is what we do."_

 _He wasn't wrong. Just four years later, he was no longer sweet and kind and naive. Anger always lurked in his eyes, even if he tried to hide it near her. To his credit, he tried to stay nice around her. When she was fifteen, Madame B gave her the best advice. The woman was blonde with blue eyes, hair always pulled into a tightly wound bun atop her head. It was the first time she was going to allow Niko to spar with her, to see how she could do against someone of equal skill. "You need to be ready. You need to remember that you cannot be broken. You need to remember that_ you _have the upper hand in this fight and not him. Being a man does not make him stronger."_

" _I have the upper hand?"_

" _You do. You always will," came the commanding tone of Madame. "Your appearance is one of true beauty, we have made sure of that, we have worked for that your entire life here. Beauty is a weapon, Natalia. More lethal and more effective than a knife, even more so than a gun. It is a true weapon that no one will ever see coming. You must learn to wield it. Here and now, against Niko, is your chance to learn."_

" _Yes, Madame."_

 _When they met for the sparring session, it wasn't what she was used to. None of the other girls were present for the fight, only the trainers were allowed to spectate. Their training clothes matched. The usual gender neutral white t-shirt with the navy blue shorts that all trainees wore. Her own and Niko's eyes were firmly settled on one another as they stood straight just ten steps from one another. She watched with feigned disinterest as he rolled his shoulders back, loosening his muscles with a few resounding cracks._

 _If he was getting himself ready, Natalia knew that meant she should be ready as well. She drew one foot back to settle on the ground behind her. It was the simplest of fighting stances that she had picked up, never seeing the point in showmanship unless it was with the grace and fluidity of her attacks. She left one hand balled in a fist at her side and raised her other hand out towards him, arching upward at her elbow to keep her fist elevated at the ready._

" _Begin," came Madame's voice._

 _Niko made no move towards her and she narrowed her teal eyes. She studied him for mere moments before she lowered her raised fist and slowly stepped forward, then even more slowly, she started to stalk a circle around him. It was a feeling akin to pride when she saw the malicious glint of delight behind Madame's cold eyes. She was the predator and Niko was her prey and he seemed almost captivated as he followed her with his eyes._

 _He must have been expecting her to attack when she finally came around to his rear because he turned swiftly to anticipate. Unfortunately for him, she hadn't done it. She moved quickly and gracefully from his left and Natalia gripped his left wrist in her arms as her legs swung around to wrap around his neck. She wrenched his arm hard until she dragged him to the ground beneath her and kept her legs squeezed tight, his arm pulled as far as she could physically lean back into the pavement below._

 _Her having the upper hand only lasted a mere minute before he lifted himself off the ground and onto his feet while she was still attached to him. Within moments she was forced to roll off him and away before he could slam her onto the ground under him. The unfortunate circumstance led to her back being toward him and before she could spin around fast enough to block when she felt a foot meet her ribs. It sent the air rushing from her lungs and she couldn't retaliate when his fist met the left side of her face, then followed by his knee to her gut._

 _She was dropped to her knees and she barely caught his foot in time before it connected with her temple. Natalia twisted it, dragging him to the ground beside her and she swung one leg over him so that she had one on either side of his waist. In seconds she landed three punches to his face. Left, right, left—before his backhand met her cheekbone and sent her onto the ground next to him._

 _Suddenly the position was reversed and she could actually see the murderous gleam come to life in his face. One hand gripped her neck so tightly she couldn't breathe as the other raised up in a way that showed lethal intention. But the Madame's words were whirling through her head, 'Beauty is a weapon, more lethal than a knife and even a gun. Learn to wield it.' Only one idea come front and foremost now and she reached up with both hands, gripping her fingertips on the collar of his t-shirt as she forced his face down towards hers. His lips met hers and she waited as his grip around her neck slowly loosened until his hand came to rest at her cheek while his other hand rested carelessly on the ground to his side._

 _Natalia swore she could actually feel the Madame's wicked smile as she watched. Niko was too dumbfounded and lost in the heat of the moment to know how to react when she rolled lithely out from underneath him. A second later she swung a leg over his back, gripped his short brown hair in her hands, then slammed his face straight into the pavement._

 _The trainers said he didn't wake up for nearly five minutes. Madame B. had praised her for the very first time that day._

Apparently it was still effective fifteen years later. Though his one hand still had her throat gripped firmly, his other was now on her waist as he attempted to tug her as close against him as physically possible. She used it to her advantage, pushing further into him and forcing him to take a few steps back towards the other wall. A few more seconds and his fingers completely released her neck and instead reached up for her face. That was the moment she chose to act. She pulled back and moved quickly to the wall he had previously held her against, using it to gain momentum as she managed two quick steps up it and _pushed_ off. He was already moving towards her again, just as she predicted, and she got her feet around his neck as she swung the rest of her body behind him. Between the momentum of her jump, the force of her weight and a little help from gravity, she used her full weight to throw him to the ground and his body violently landed against the wall.

His head met it with a sickening thud as the plaster cracked and Natasha felt like she could actually take a moment to catch her breath. The pain in the back of her head was nothing compared to searing fire burning through her thigh. She actually struggled back to her feet, resting her back against the wall as her teal eyes flickered down. Niko still remained immobile on the floor with an unsteady rise and fall of his chest and she let out a breath of relief.

This was it. She needed to get out before she lost the chance and he woke up. That meant there was no more time to stand around and she heaved out a breath as she placed her palm on the wall for balance. It was an effort to ignore the pain that pulsated through her leg with each step but she still quickly and efficiently made her way through the halls and towards the exit.

Natasha never heard him. Suddenly and violently her face hit the wall and her cheek was forcibly pressed against it. Niko's hand was like a vice on the back of her hair as he wrenched her arm back behind her.

"Always the cheater, Talia," his voice, heavily Russian accented, was like nails on a chalkboard in her ear and she grimaced slightly at the amused, yet enraged, tone of his voice. His childhood nickname for her only served to make her feel even more hollow inside than Red Room had already left her. The reality of it was; Natasha was just as much like him as Niko was like her.

It was true enough she supposed, at least from what little she had remembered about their sparring sessions back in Red Room. "You used to appreciate that, if I recall..." she purposely teased.

"Mmm..." came the grunt of agreement, "And now I hear you fancy yourself a hero."

She scoffed at that, "Hardly..." Natasha couldn't find an angle to get out of his grasp, not without her arm breaking from the effort. That hardly seemed like an effective escape plan against Niko and instead she taunted him with further conversation, "I heard you were dead."

"You heard wrong."

"Clearly."

He was snickering now, "I'm giving you a chance here, Talia."

Her eyes narrowed at that as she stared sideways at him. "A chance at what?" she dared to ask. Truthfully, she wasn't sure she actually wanted to hear the answer.

"A chance to avoid tortures of the past," he offered up. "You can willingly serve or we can make you."

She sucked in a breath at that and she frowned, "Serve HYDRA?"

"Mmm..."

"And what do you get out of this? Either way this happens, you must get something," she commented offhandedly. She watched the smirk that came across features, "So what is it, Nikolao? Money? Freedom?"

"You."

Natasha actually felt her blood run colder with that, "That's never going to happen."

Niko merely grinned at that, "So, Option B then?"

"I didn't trade in the KGB so I could work for HYDRA," she added with a sneer. "There's nothing you can do to make that happen."

The smile that came across his lips was unsettling, "That is why we have the chair, Natalia..."

She grunted when he launched her onto the hard concrete on her back. The pain was nearly unbearable and his hand reached down for her throat. Within seconds she was being dragged down the hall in his death grip and she couldn't breathe through it. The back of her legs trailed across the floor and no matter how much she tried, how much she kicked, she couldn't get her feet back underneath her.

It was blackened vision and choked breaths for at least two minutes when suddenly she felt her body being lifted up again. A moment later she was slammed into a sitting position and she realized too late that it was the wooden chair from the room she had entered earlier. The metal cuffs of the arms of the chair locked over her wrists just as another set of metal cuffs latched over her ankles.

Suddenly there was no escape left and the panic coursed through her like never before. Natasha watched as Strucker weaseled into the room with a sickening grin and an equally twisted laugh and she narrowed her eyes at him, tugging her hands and feet against the metal latches. It was a useless endeavor, the legs of the chair were bolted into the cement floor. "Chair doesn't work by itself, you moronic prick," the comment was enough to wipe the amusement off Strucker's face, but Niko actually looked like he was trying to conceal a laugh.

By now Jarvis would be sending help, but even so, help would still be fifteen hours away at the very least. Taunting Strucker when he was in control of her for the next fifteen or more hours probably wasn't the best decision, but it was a little late to take back her 'moronic prick' comment now.

"Unfortunately for you, Agent Romanoff, I have the serum to go along with the chair," came Strucker's twisted delight. "It would seem we require you to be a blank slate to gain your allegiance."

Her teal eyes followed Strucker as he paced circles around the room, "I hate to be a ball buster here, Strucker von Wolfie, but-"

"It is Wolfie von Strucker!" he growled out at her. "Gah! Wolfgang! Wolfgang von Strucker! You stupid little harpy!" he screamed out as his hands raved angrily in the air.

Natasha could see the heave of silent laughter that shook Niko's shoulders. She just smirked and continued the conversation, "But—if you're thinking of using that mind-drug to turn me back into the old me, you might have a problem when you get what you want."

"And why is that?" he sneered out.

"Because the old me would eat you for breakfast," she informed him in an icy voice.

"You will follow orders like a good little puppet."

She leveled her eyes with his and gave him a coy smile, "Is that so? Because I don't recall you ever being my puppet master," she replied thoughtfully. "I don't even follow orders from imbeciles now, so what exactly makes you think that the old me would?" she questioned. Natasha studied him with a smile on her face and she was glad to see his discomfort with her words.

"Ahhh, yes. You followed Nick Fury," he mentioned with a snicker. "Shame about him," he added in amusement. She had to force herself to avert her eyes with his comment which seemed to fuel him on, "And who does the great Natasha Romanoff follow now, hmm? Captain America? You don't find it foolish of him to have found himself working for the very organization he thought he died for?"

She released a haggard breath of mock-frustration, "He's no fool." She watched the anger fill his features once more, "Captain Rogers' naivety is actually his greatest strength."

"And why is that?"

"Because people like you and I underestimate him for it," she stated with a smile. "Fact is, he's not nearly as naive as everyone thinks he is." Now she grinned at him, "I think that's fairly obvious with how he trounced your plan for world domination and a global massacre a few months back."

"Enough!"

Apparently, that was going to far, even if Niko was still snickering in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. Natasha followed Strucker's movements with her eyes until he disappeared behind her. She already knew what was coming next as his hand flicked the switch on the tiny metal compartment on the back of the chair. There was no stopping the gasp of pain that flowed from her lips when the dozens of sharp needles shot out from the vertical metal panel on the chair and pierced the skin up and down her spine. The dozen needles that slammed through the bottom of her wrists after that was almost enough to make her eyes water. It took a second to breathe through it, to force the pain into the back of her mind until she no longer felt it.

She hadn't been in the chair for over a decade and it showed. Back then, she never even reacted to this part. She always managed to stare indifferently at the wall. It seemed it even made Niko uncomfortable with memories of the past, because he quickly disappeared from the room. At least, she thought that was why he left, until he reappeared with the syringe.

The struggle was all to real now. It was all she could do to try and avoid it and squirm as he came towards her, as though she might draw some magical super strength like Steve's and break the metal latches holding her in place. It only served to cause more pain as the needles shifted and those rough and calloused hands gripped her chin roughly.

"Natalia, struggling only makes it harder on you."

Her voice was caught in the back of her throat for the moment but she didn't stop. She kept moving, kept trying to break free. "Don't do this..." it broke out from low in her throat and it arrived in the air raspy and raw.

For half a second she saw his eyes soften but it was gone as quickly as it arrived. "Stay still," he ordered. She didn't and she watched him sigh and shake his head. A moment later, Strucker's right arm came around her forehead roughly, holding her head completely still while his right hand came around, forcing one of her eyes to stay open with his thumb and index finger.

Natasha felt like she stopped breathing for the moment as the syringe got closer. A moment later the needle entered her eye and the pressure that built up as he hit the plunger was enormous. Within seconds it was over though, and she released shaky breaths as both men released her head.

"You know how this works Natalia," Niko reminded her. "The more you try to cling to what you know, the worse it will get."

She knew. She remembered the instant that the electricity flowed through all the needles from the chair.

"Just let it go."

She actually chuckled through the next bout of convulsions that rocketed through her. All she could do was think of Frozen and listening to the ridiculous song with Lila. The chuckle turned into a small laugh when she thought of the time Clint belted out the lyrics like it was the most natural thing in the world for a master assassin to do. More shocks hit her. And of course there was dorky Doctor Bruce Banner, cracking the 'Let it Go' joke just a week ago, that only made her laugh harder.

"Wonderful," Strucker muttered with a shake of his head. "She's madder than the hatter..."

* * *

Time doesn't exactly go by very quickly when anything that reminds you of something that you know forces a current of electricity through your body. The truth was, she wasn't even sure what the truth was, not anymore. Something would show up in her mind and a moment later, the shocks would force it away. Natasha couldn't even comprehend all of the noises she heard. She couldn't comprehend what was happening when a giant green beast forced a chasm in the doorway, holding a body by the head in his giant hand.

She stared as he dropped the body to the floor and those dark eyes looked around the room with a snarl before the angry gaze settled on her. Something told her she was supposed to be scared, that she should have been afraid for her life. The gasp left her lips when the shocks tore the feeling away from her and caused the big guy to huff out a grunt with wide eyes. She released shaky and short breaths as he slowly inched closer, confusion mixed in with the anger behind those giant dark eyes.

When his large green hand reached forward, she didn't squirm, she didn't move and she didn't blink. She stared vacantly at his hand as he lowered it over one of hers. It completely blanketed her hand, surprisingly gentle and for a moment she recognized the concern behind his eyes as the scientist she knew. "B—br..." she hadn't spoken since this all started and the shocks were causing a stutter in her voice, trying to force the word away from her mind. "B—Bruce..."

It only made it worse and she suffered in silence as her whole body shook. She watched as the big guy stepped back, enraged and holding his head, growling out in rage as he started to shrink and turn back to the pale scientist she thought she knew. No shirt, but his pants seemed mostly in tact, whatever that good that did.

Bruce was shaking on the ground, trying to overcome the intensity of the sudden transformation back to himself and his name left her lips again, "Br—bruce..."

It had the desired effect.

He collected himself enough to come over towards her almost thirty seconds later and she could see him fidgeting with the chair in confusion, his brain still mucked from being The Hulk just minutes before. "Natasha..." he whispered, and she felt his hands as they gently grasped either side of her face, "How do I stop it?"

"Ch—ch—chair..." she breathed out in agony. "B—back..."

It seemed to be enough for him because he released her face and scurried around the back of the chair. She was almost willing to thank God when the electricity no longer made appearances. The moment the needles withdrew from her back and wrists she couldn't stop the strangled noise that crawled out from the back of her throat. Then Bruce came back around in front of her, making 'shhh'ing effects that she supposed were probably meant to be comforting or something. It wasn't, but she appreciated the effort. His face kept going in and out of focus, his name kept getting lost on her lips.

"Oh, good. Your super pants worked—mostly. Consider them a work in progress," came the other voice behind the man before her.

"Not the time, Tony."

She watched the one in front of her move to her side as he unlatched the metal over her wrist. She couldn't focus on the strange red and gold of the metal man and she felt dizzy and sick. She frowned in confusion when the mask over his face disappeared and the man, Tony, stared at her with a look akin to horror.

"Bruce—is she..."

Natasha watched as Bruce freed her hand and waved off Tony, remnants of her blood on his hand. Bruce actually looked a little traumatized by it before he shook it off and then Tony was on her other side, simply yanking the other metal latch off with ease before he forcibly removed the ones around her ankles. There was no stopping her free fall forward but Bruce seemed to have anticipated it because she wound up with her face buried in his shoulder.

"Alright—okay..." there was no doubt about the discomfort in his voice as he awkwardly put his arms around her. She could see the further squeamish look cross his expression when his hands on her back were left wet and sticky and painted crimson. "It's okay..." she wasn't the one freaking out though, so she was pretty sure he was trying to convince himself.

* * *

 **Okaaay. Yeah, I went there. Hope you enjoyed my dark and twistiness!  
**

 **Before I forget - I, in no way, condone any of the violence seen in this story. ;) That is all.**

 **Um, yeah. So, I had some questions from Guest reviewers that I can't reply to. So I'll answer them here.**

 **Q.) What were Natasha's dreams about?  
A.) Well, you read them in the beginning of this chapter. Originally it was to be a part of the last chapter, but I couldn't exactly go putting Natasha's dreams in Bruce's PoV. He would need my mind-reading cap, and that's broken.**

 **Q.) What was Bruce going to share with Natasha to make her feel better and will he get to share it with her?  
A.) He already did. It just hasn't been discussed yet. His love for those classic movies :) Note that it did somewhat work. She not only enjoyed the movie, but even when she got upset afterwards she came back and watched another.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note** : Okay, so, you guys like the dark and twisty. Glad everyone reading is as mentally unstable as I am. And you bunch of nutcases also voted for the more romantic angle on this, that somehow makes it all even funnier. Dark and twisty with a wee bit extra on the lovins'. I got you guys covered, well, at least on the former. We'll work our way into the latter. Here's hoping my romance is as good as my dark and twisty! _Challenge accepted_!

Bet you didn't see this coming. Here's a slightly different point of view for this chapter. I'm a little indecisive about Tony's perspective, so you'll have to give me an honest opinion and let me know if it's something you'll want to see again in a future chapter.

 **Chapter 7** :

When Tony entered the lab on Jarvis' warning of an emergency, seeing Bruce standing in front of a video screen wasn't exactly what he expected. Even worse was the green tinge settling over the normally pale man's skin, "Whoa! Doctor Jekyll, you're looking a little green," he rushed out the words quickly, coming around the side of the scientist.

" _Enough!_ "

He dared to glance at the screen and he watched as Strucker disappeared off of it. A moment later there was a shuddering gasp of pain from the redhead as her vitals spiked once again. "Jarvis, is the jet ready?"

"Yes, sir. You had it prepped in case of an emergency."

"How about my new suit?"

"You may still have a few kinks to work out, sir, but it is in functional condition."

"Good enough," _It had to be._ "Hey, no going Jolly Green Giant in my lab," he warned the other man. "Are you coming with me?"

"With you?" Bruce's voice came out admonished and the idea seemed to have surprised him enough to take the edge off the rage.

Tony huffed out an exasperated breath, "Well, you can come along like a good boy, or you can sit here in time out. I'll be forced to ban your video feed privileges and put you in the containment cell so that Mr. Hyde can go trample all that pent up anger you just swelled up. Or, you can get on the jet, hold it together for... approximately... fourteen or so hours, and go smash these guys." The reality was, he was trying to get Bruce to avoid looking at the screen any longer than he already had been.

It wasn't effective when her vitals started spiking outrageously and Bruce instantly turned back to look.

" _Don't do this..._ "

" _Stay still._ "

The sound that came from her was something Tony didn't even think a human being was capable of making. The first round of electricity took the camera out.

"Bruce-"

"Let's go..."

Tony watched him cautiously for a moment before he nodded. "Well, guess we can test out those new superpants for you..." the attempt at levity fell flat as he watched Bruce stalk silently from the lab and he quickly followed after him. They were at the jet in less than ten minutes and he saw Pepper waiting for them. Bruce bypassed her, getting on without a word and he sighed, stopping beside her. "Get a message to our star-spangled leader and Barton. Doubt they'll get it before we've already taken care of this, but-"

"I'll take care of it," Pepper assured him. He knew there was a reason he loved this woman, "What about Bruce? Can he handle this?" came her hushed voice.

He could only shrug a little at that, "Must like our favorite little assassin more than he lets on. I expected a big green tantrum in my lab, but he managed to keep it bottled up."

"I meant, can he handle whatever he might do?"

"I know," Tony admitted. "Only one way to find out," he offered up halfheartedly. "I know I said I wasn't doing the whole hero thing anymore-"

Pepper's small smile and shake of her head cut him off and he chuckled at her next words, "Like you could ever just _stop_ being reckless," she teased sadly. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his softly for a moment, "Go, before Bruce teaches himself how to fly your jet."

"You're the boss, dear."

"Mmm, and don't you forget it."

* * *

Tony had cut at least two, possibly three hours, off the flight to Samara; a flight they were already nearing the end of. It didn't change the fact that Natasha was left to endure whatever was happening to her for the last twelve hours. He glanced to the side at Bruce, who was attempting every possible way to keep calm, and at the moment, that consisted of playing Beethoven over the surround sound of the inside of the jet.

It didn't change the fact that for most of the flight, Bruce either paced up and down the rear aisle or he would sit stiffly and listen to the music. "Five minutes," he warned him. "How do you want to do this?"

There was silence for a moment before Bruce finally spoke to him, "Just open the the side door."

"What?" he questioned, giving his friend an incredulous look.

"Now."

"Romanoff is a bad influence on you," he muttered, but Tony didn't bother to fight him on it. "Jarvis, you heard the man. Open 'er up, then take over the auto-pilot and land this bird for us. We're going in."

"Of course, sir."

He was already up and getting his suit on when he saw Bruce, already turning green, _step_ out the side of the jet as though there were something there to walk on. "Hey! _I'm_ supposed to be the show-off who jumps out of the plane!" he yelled after him. He waited for the rest of his suit to pull together over him and slid the Iron Man mask over his face, then stepped out two minutes behind him. It was in time to see the Big Guy land and run at lightning speed with a howling bellow of rage that echoed through the silence of the Russian night. A moment later he barreled through the wall and into the HYDRA facility, causing enough noise to alert people for miles that there was a monster going bump in the night. Needless to say, anyone inside the compound knew The Hulk had arrived. If he hadn't heard the distress in Natasha's voice when she said, ' _Don't do this..._ ' he might have actually felt sorry for what was about to happen to them.

Instead he flew through the crater that was left in the wall, following behind green rage monster as he snarled at and trampled down anyone and everything in his way. "Alright, Green Machine, I know you're pissed," he called out to him. "But remember, our main goal is to find Natasha," he honestly had no idea if the alter ego of his friend would even listen, but he could hope. He did seem to have connected with the redhead on some level over a week ago in the containment cell, which had been more than a little unexpected and more than he or Bruce had ever managed since they started the attempts after New York.

He watched as the Big Guy turned and gave him a rather pissed off growl before throwing the body of one of the guards at him. "Whoa! Not cool, buddy," he mumbled out, using his repulsors to veer out of the way of the careening body. "Think, Big Green, think. You remember Natasha, right? Red hair? Green eyes?"

Another body came flying at him and he dodged it again, flying behind the Hulk as he bellowed his way further through the halls. "C'mon, I know you remember," he added next and saw the him stop when he came across the man who had been on Natasha's video feed with the syringe. The feral noise that came from his throat seemed to make the man think twice about attempting a confrontation and he actually turned to try and escape when the Big Guy, quite literally, bitch-slapped him into the nearest wall. After that he proceeded to grab a hold of him by the leg, then slam him into the wall on the left, and then again against the wall to the right.

"She said the next move was all yours, remember that?" he called out. It stopped the Big Guy in his tracks and Tony watched as he turned to look back at him, still holding the unconscious man by the leg. He still looked enraged, but fortunately the body didn't come flying at his head this time. He took that as a good sign and continued after clearing his throat, "He uh—he deserved that," and he saw him snort in angry amusement. "But Natasha needs you to make the next move here, alright?" he reasoned as he kept his tone calm and nonthreatening.

The Hulk snarled and scowled at the unconscious man in his hands before dropping him on his head and looking around. It was hard to decide what he was about to do next when he turned back to him, but finally he huffed out an angry breath and gave the briefest nod that Tony took as understanding and agreement. Of course, it didn't stop him from proceeding in through the halls in a destructive path, but at least he wasn't stopping to throw everything and everyone.

He lost sight of the Big Guy for a few minutes as he searched room by room and it wasn't until he heard the racket of another wall busting down that he made his way in that direction. A few minutes behind apparently meant he missed a lot, because when he came across it and flew through the Hulk-sized crater in the doorway, he instead saw Bruce, wearing only a pair of tattered and worn pants, "Oh, good. You're superpants worked—mostly. Consider them a work in progress."

"Not the time, Tony," came his friend's haggard and worried tone. He looked as he always did after de-Hulking; ashen and fatigued and ready to pass out at any given moment.

The next retort was lost on his lips when Bruce moved to the side and he saw Natasha trapped in the wooden chair. A thin red cut went vertically over one eyebrow and her teal eyes, along with her skin pigment, didn't hold their usual porcelain doll visage, looking dull and lifeless as she shifted her gaze over to study him. It was as though she had absolutely no comprehension of who he was when the small frown crossed her features even after he retracted his mask up into the helmet. "Bruce—is she-"

The question was lost to him when Bruce raised a hand and waved him off to tell him to be quiet. For once he kept his mouth shut, especially when his own eyes, along with Natasha's vacant irises, saw the remnants of blood on Bruce's fingertips. His friend's brown eyes were wide and horrified by the sight and Tony moved toward them without a second thought. He yanked the other metal latch off her hand and then removed the two on her ankles just as easily.

There was a moment where Tony thought he might have to reach out and grab hold of her when she fell forward, but Bruce's quiet and fretting voice rang out, "Alright—okay..." came the whisper as the good doctor stayed crouched right in front of her to break the fall, then delicately put his arms around her when she came to rest with her cheek pressed cautiously in the crook of his neck. Natasha's hands rested gingerly and tentatively on his chest, and the sight of it was something he had never quite imagined that he would live to see.

Neither of the two looked entirely comfortable with their positions; Bruce with the very idea of physical contact and Natasha being very much the same when it wasn't contact she initiated of her own volition. That, mixed with the uncertainty of everything that seemed to be going on, had her face looking befuddled and lost in the haze of her reality. He watched Bruce's expression change from timid and daunted, into something more disturbed and mortified; his eyes warily shifting to the redhead's back. Tony had to follow his gaze to see the problem and finally cast his eyes on the blood that trickled from dozens of microscopic holes in her uniform, which had proceeded to cover his friend's hands in blood.

"It's okay..." came Bruce's lamenting tone in a blundering attempt to console her. Tony had a feeling it was actually more for his own benefit than for Natasha's, because the redhead remained silent and unresponsive against his chest. He watched his friend looked solemnly over at him in reaction to the hollow woman he was stiffly clinging to, "Strucker?"

"Never found him," Tony admitted with a sigh. "He must have been long gone before we ever showed up. I get the feeling we were an expected intrusion..." He watched as Bruce nodded just a little and then slowly start to pull himself and Natasha up into a standing position, but her eyes had closed and she became dead weight in his wavering embrace. "Here," he offered and held his arms out to take her. He watched his friend's eyes as he debated it, clearly conflicted about letting her go, before he subsequently nodded his agreement. Tony draped her arm over his shoulder and lifted her up under her knees within seconds of Bruce's green light, "Let's go."

It wasn't exactly a swift retreat to exit the compound with Bruce struggling along behind him sluggishly. It was all catching up to the scientist but he was pushing forward without a thought for his own well-being and it was a characteristic that Tony had easily come to admire the other man for. Fortunately, Jarvis had decided that the best place to land the jet was practically right outside the 'door' the Hulk had created earlier. The side hatch opened to allow them entry without either of them having to say a word and Tony took care to place Natasha down on cushioned bench seat in the back. "You uh-"

"I got it... just—just get us back..." Bruce mumbled out as he shuffled his feet over to where Natasha lay. He imagined it shouldn't have been as uncomfortable as it was for the good doctor to unzip her uniform and pull it off of her, not when she had paraded around his home in Bahir in her underwear already. Though Tony knew that the difference between then and now was painfully obvious, not to mention there was a very keen difference between Natasha undressing herself and Bruce having to do it for her. With the short and raspy breaths she was letting out, his friend seemed to have shoved the discomfort with the situation to the back of his mind.

"Let's get going. Jarvis... let's try to go a little faster for the return trip."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

The first seven hours went easily enough. Bruce had done what little he actually could to clean up Natasha's injuries and make the redhead comfortable and she had remained unconscious up to this point. Unfortunately, Tony knew it couldn't last forever and that became apparent when she shot up into a sitting position with a gasp.

He dared to look back and watch as Bruce moved over to her side, "Natasha—it's alright, you're fine."

She wasn't having any of it. Natasha quite literally jumped away from him as she stumbled off the cushioned bench she had been resting on, completely oblivious, or perhaps just uncaring, of the fact that she was clad only in a man's shirt that hung just a little down her thighs and a pair of panties. Her only weapon was the thinnest of blankets that Bruce had covered her with earlier was clutched so tightly in her fingertips that her knuckles had gone white from the pressure. Honestly, Tony had no doubt she could kill with just a blanket, her whole body was a weapon.

"Natasha..." Bruce's concerned voice came out softly.

"Doctor Banner, I suggest keeping a distance from Miss Romanoff for the time being," came the warning from Jarvis. "I was running a diagnostic on her blood during our return trip and I am receiving readings of something that SHIELD has formerly found in her system."

Tony glanced from Natasha to Bruce, and fortunately, Bruce seemed to be taking his AI's advice to use caution with her. "Readings of what, Jarvis?"

"They believed it to be a serum used by the KGB and Red Room to erase and restructure memories of the person it is injected into," Jarvis answered. "When Agent Barton convinced her to join SHIELD after she went rogue from the KGB, remnants of this serum were still in her system, however, they were unable to decipher why it was no longer effecting her."

"The chair..." came the redhead's whisper.

Tony's eyes drifted over to Natasha. "The chair?" he questioned, watching as her teal eyes shifted from Bruce to him. There was no longer any expression on her face, she looked vacant and cool, even though he knew she had to be anything but. He couldn't fathom how she did it, how she could hide everything away behind such a veneer of indifference, and it was a skill he would never admit to being envious of.

"You need both," she expanded on it for him with an equally hollow voice to match her expression. "The chair and the serum. The shocks activate the serum's effects the moment it's injected."

This time it was Bruce who asked the next question, "And what are the effects?"

"Memory loss. It's a chain reaction, the serum needs the shocks to be useful, the chair needs to serum to be activated. Anytime you think of a memory, or a face, or a name... the chair shocks you through the needles, activates the serum. Enough times... it all goes away. It leaves you empty."

Bruce frowned as he listened to her hardened and mechanical explanation of how it worked and Tony could only assume that it was something practically ingrained in her. It was disturbing to realize her details of it were something from _before_ SHIELD, something Jarvis had mentioned was previously done to her just prior to her defection. "Do you know who I am?" came Bruce's question and it was one that plagued on both of their minds at the moment; whether or not Natasha recognized them even slightly.

"No—yes..." she mumbled out, squeezing her eyes shut. "I think..." came the hoarse whisper as she brought her hands up to her face and rubbed tentatively at her eyes. "I think..." came her repeated whisper. Tony could only think the she was _too young_ to have had things like this done to her before. Too young to have a 'before SHIELD'. He first met her nearly six years ago and she was clearly already in Fury's inner circle at that time. In fact, Fury had been one of the few people he had seen initiate physical contact with the redhead with ease, other than Clint. The simple introduction he had received of Natasha had included Fury putting an arm around her shoulder and squeezing her forearm almost fondly. During their Avengers' shawarma stint after the battle of New York, Clint had been allowed to rest his foot almost intimately against her thigh while they all ate.

She had never even reacted to either of those moments, as though they were natural moments for her, quite unlike when anyone else made attempts at it. Hell, even physical contact with Steve Rogers, the American Posterboy, seemed to make her a little uneasy if she wasn't the one to initiate it. Tony could see that Bruce was about to attempt something of the sort, and he shot out one of his characteristic and ill-mannered comments, just to be sure that he stopped the potentially hazardous event before it could happen, "Alright, you're already wish-washy enough, stop thinking before you break your brain, Romanoff."

"Tony!" Bruce admonished him.

It was all he could do not to smirk, especially when something akin to amusement combined with indignation crossed the former assassin's face. It seemed that even if she didn't yet recall Bruce and Tony themselves, she did seem to have some recollection for their usual repertoire of witty banter. Given that it was the first real emotion that she actually exhibited since they got her out of the chair, it was a surprisingly refreshing change of pace.

A moment later Natasha huffed and then aimed the barest of smiles in his direction before she responded, "I'm not sure just yet—but I'm going to assume I don't like you much..."

"That may be a gross understatement, Miss Romanoff," came Jarvis' mechanical attempt at being comical, "However, it is a commonly perceived reaction."

Tony could see Natasha's eyebrow quirk up and he shook his fist jokingly in the air, "You're not allowed to betray me like that, Jarvis. You're supposed to be on _my_ side, I made you."

"But of course, sir. I suppose this is the part where you tell me, _I brought you into this world, and I can take you out_ ," and it would seem his masterpiece was also making an attempt to put Natasha at ease.

It also seemed that Bruce was catching on to his attempts to get Natasha at least somewhat relaxed in their presence, because his normally reserved friend joined in, "Careful, Jarvis. You know Tony is better at breaking rather than making." It was cheesy and pathetic, but Tony gave him an 'E' for effort.

"Indeed, Doctor Banner. I have been a witness to this many times."

Regardless of the attempts, Natasha seemed keen to ignore them and when he glanced back, she was staring vacantly at the wall of the jet from her new position on the floor.

The rest of the flight went on in silence and he was forced to give up the attempts at either relaxing her or getting near her. Getting closer than five feet typically resulted in her looking for any escape options and Tony was legitimately afraid that if they kept pushing to help her, she might just retreat to a place in her mind that they couldn't pull her back from.

Bruce resigned from his attempts not long after, finally settling into the seat next to him to give Natasha more space.

"Mr. Barton has left a message saying he would be awaiting our return at the tower, sirs," came Jarvis' voice. "I have taken care to explain to him the situation..."

"Maybe he can get through to her?" he heard Bruce whisper his question.

It was a good question, Tony supposed. Truth be told, deciphering whatever the relationship was between the two former assassins had always been near to impossible for him. It definitely went beyond the scope of friends are partners, but to what lengths it reached, he honestly had no idea. "He's the one she trusts, from what I can tell," he finally offered up, "So it's a good idea..." _As long as she_ remembers _that she trusts him._

The niggling feeling of doubt he had about that lessened after two more hours. Bruce had retired to sprawl across a few of the seats in the back and he could see the man writhing and squirming. He never did well after coming back from The Hulk and just watching him try to recover from it always left Tony feeling nauseous and hesitant to let him do it again. The fact that it took this long for him to actually give in to all of it was a miracle by any standards, not to mention the fact that The Hulk seemed to have willingly given the control back for Natasha's sake.

And Natasha surprised him most. After two hours of sitting on the floor near the cushioned bench, he saw her teal eyes flash over to Bruce's writhing form with a sudden flash of concern. Apparently, you could twist the memories, the names and the faces—but it seemed you couldn't twist the feelings. At least, it seemed that way.

It became more apparent when the redhead cautiously got to her feet and silently padded her way over to Bruce. She seemed to study him for several moments before that thin white blanket that had been gripped so tightly in her hands the entire time suddenly sprawled out to rest over the quirky scientist.

He kept his head forward, watching carefully on the monitor as she folded her legs beneath her and sat quietly with a neutral expression once more. She didn't budge until she seemed to realize that the blanket wasn't enough to stop the movement of Bruce. She never looked at him, her face never changed, but her hand slowly drifted up and rested over top of his.

Natasha's quiet voice spoke Russian next, "Solnsta stanovitsya real'nym nizkim," and he was forced to read Jarvis' silent translation as she continued, "Otdykh legko, bok'show paren'."

 _Sun's getting real low. Rest easy, big guy._

Even if her brain was fried for the moment, he gave her credit. He wasn't sure if it was that she had the semblance that they were supposed to be teammates, because Tony isn't sure if they even considered one another a friend, not yet; or if maybe she just felt it was necessary because Bruce's alter ego had busted in to save the day. Either way, Bruce's movement stopped and for the moment he seemed to rest a little easier. Natasha stayed like that, even though Tony wasn't even sure she was consciously aware of it. She sat, expressionless and staring at the wall with her hand over Bruce's for the remainder of the flight. And when she got her memory back, he knew she would likely maim him if he ever dared to tell anyone about it, so he swore himself to a vow of silence instead.

Although he hadn't initially liked her for her infiltration in his company, he couldn't deny a certain amount of respect for her skill in espionage. And, at this point, he sort of thought she deserved and earned his trust to go along with it. Because she was _too young_ and yet she seemed older and wiser than the rest of them, a circumstance due to growing up far too soon, he imagined.

* * *

 **Alright. Let me know what you think of Tony's PoV so I know if I should ever do _that_ again. It was actually kind of fun. Actually giving him some more perspective on everything going on and seeing him actually warm up to Natasha rather than just sort of... accept her. He's a sarcastic douchenozzle, but he's a gentle and caring sarcastic douchenozzle, and I 'adore' him for it. xD**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note** : Okay, more angst and darkness for all you nutjobs out there. Get ready for some insanity.

Further **Kaydification** in progress, please remember that side-effects may include, but are not limited to: growing pains, snarling, growling, scowling, turning green, breathtaking anger management problems and possible ripping of your pants.

This one is for **MrsPanda** , thanks for your support **:)**

 **Chapter 8** :

Natasha suffered in silence for three days without speaking to anyone, not even Clint, though she never told him to leave her room. He spent at least seventy-five percent of the last two days laying on the normally empty left side of her bed, and something kept telling her it was alright that he was there. He kept telling her it would just take a few days to wear off. He kept saying that when it did, almost everything would be crystal clear again, and then he had shoved the ridiculously beaten up stuffed lamb into her hands like she was a child. Tony kept his distance and Jarvis had informed her Bruce showed up a few times, though the AI only allowed the scientist entry against her will if it was for medical purposes.

Clint wasn't wrong. Over the three days previous days things had slowly started coming back, then this morning she woke up and it was like the fog had finally lifted. She turned over towards him before she finally rested her head on his shoulder, and it only took his grayish eyes a second to flicker open and shift in her direction before he gave her a smile, "You okay?"

"I don't know," her voice kept its usual neutral tone regardless of the honest answer. It was the first thing she had really bothered to say to him in the last seventy-two hours.

She could feel him studying her and she waited patiently for whatever he would deem appropriate to respond with, "How much do you remember now?"

"A little," she answered without thought. "But also more...more then what I think knew before..."

"More?" the curiosity in Clint's voice was apparent. She didn't answer because she didn't need to, the look that suddenly crossed his face said he understood, "Is it bad?"

The memory of snapping Kseniya Lubovich's neck when she was a mere ten-years-old hung vividly in the forefront of her mind. "Yeah..."

"Nat..." the worry was evident in his tone and she knew that her one word answers weren't helping any, but they seemed to be the only thing she could manage for right now. It was moments like this that made people think there was much more to The Hawk and The Widow than there actually was. "You haven't really talked to me about anything in almost a year, y'know? Talk to me now..." He was right, but she wasn't sure he would like what she had to say, not that he had ever judged her before.

She never moved when he put his other arm around her and tugged her closer, and instead of pulling away, Natasha simply shook her head and hugged that stupid lamb a little tighter. This wasn't supposed to happen to her. She wasn't supposed to end up some pitiful mess who couldn't form a logical sentence of more than three syllables in just as many words. Madame B. had told her that she couldn't be broken. "The veil they fabricated in my mind about how I grew up..." she began with a dangerous edge, "It's shredded now..." She couldn't force herself to make eye contact with him, "I'm more of a monster than I thought..."

The Madame had been wrong, so wrong that it actually _physically_ hurt. "You're not a monster," came her best friend's reassuring voice, "You never were."

But he didn't know and Natasha wasn't sure she could tell him the truth. "You're right..." she agreed softly, and she could _feel_ the surprise that radiated off of him, "I was so much worse." She closed her eyes now and turning away from him as she curled in on herself.

"Come back to the farm."

She had, of course, expected that offer to come from him, and she shook her head, "No."

"You need to be with family-"

"I can't—I can't look at Lila and Cooper." She shoved his hands away when he tried to reach for her, "No, I won't go lie and pretend I can be Auntie Nat, not right now, I can't."

"Nat-"

"I knew him," she said quickly and she effectively stopped whatever Clint might have thought to say next. She didn't shove his hand away this time when it came to rest on her shoulder. "The guy with Strucker, I knew him," it was a vast understatement, but her friend seemed to understand that there was more to it than that, he always understood. "You were sent to kill me because SHIELD thought a rogue, former-KGB assassin, was too dangerous to leave running around without someone reigning them in," she reminded him. "Truth is, I had no idea what was going on."

Natasha felt him sit up almost immediately and she sighed before she sat up too. "How did you not know?" she heard the hesitation in that question.

"I was twenty, I was loyal, and I was their greatest achievement," she admitted, and without having actually answered his question, she hugged her knees to her chest. "So tell me again, Clint. What did you see when you came to kill me?"

He was watching her carefully and she could see it. "I saw something more," came the words he told her a decade ago. "I saw someone who was hurt and lost, someone who wanted to be different, to be more."

She could only shake her head at that, resting her chin atop her knees as she put Sir Lambs-a-lot down. "That's what you saw, and I suppose it wasn't wrong," she admitted. "But it was Niko who did that to me," she explained. "He pulled me out of a session in the chair, when they were in the middle of erasing everything again. He dragged me out of there, half delirious and incapacitated..." and she rubbed at her temples in a pathetic attempt to coerce her headache away.

"And they didn't finish erasing your mind..." came Clint's realization.

Natasha shook her head at that. "Not just that," she admitted. "They have another serum also... but—it doesn't erase the memories. This serum by itself brings memories forward and makes them susceptible to—to manipulation," she explained. The headache was getting worse, "He took it when he took me. It wasn't because he wanted to 'save' me, it was because he knew they were going to get rid of him, and he was going to take their best creation with him."

She could see the realization of her statement dawning on him now, "He was drugging you."

"For two weeks," she answered with a shrug. "That's why—why when you showed up in that motel room ten years ago, I didn't know what to do. The two serums combined at once sort of contradicted each other..." she sighed again and closed her eyes. "I wasn't sure I even wanted to be alive, not with all the things I was remembering, and they were all just so warped and nonsensical... and then you-" she took a deep breath and finally dared to look over at him. It had been a while since Clint wore an impassive expression around her, but he courted one now and she didn't know what to think of it, "You were standing there with that stupid, pathetic bow and arrow, ready to kill me...and I honestly didn't care, I wasn't even sure if you were real or in my head. I might not have gone with you then but—but you were the first person to actually give me a choice."

His face was still serious when he spoke, "Join SHIELD or die?" And at least his voice didn't bare the same mask, his tone came out teasing and it made her feel a little better, "That's not much of a choice, especially now that I realized you were high as a kite."

"It was to me," she added. "It was more than anyone else had ever given me," she pointed out. She could see his face sober up with that comment. "And it took a while, but I—I sort of clung to you after that, because change scared the shit out of me, it still does. So I let you in and I have—I've built my life around you. You and Laura... the kids." She locked her gaze with those forever concerned gray eyes before she glanced away and leaned her head back down on his shoulder, "I can't keep doing that, it's not fair to you."

It broke his mask and he gave her that familiar smile she knew well, "That's not true, Nat." He frowned again though, "Did Fury know about the drugs?" when she nodded she could see the slightly perturbed expression on his face. "Nat, the you I found ten years ago isn't much different from what I've seen the last three days," he reminded her. "Did he use both drugs again?"

"I don't know," she admitted as she rubbed her temples again. "Maybe—but if he did, I doubt he told Strucker. I'm not exactly a useful machine with _both_ drugs in me," she tacked on, "I turn into a disheveled lunatic that can't tell heads from tails, in case it slipped your mind."

"Trust me, it hasn't," he admitted, "You creeped me out when I first met you, at least now I know why." Then he chuckled, "And my arrow isn't pathetic. I've used it well over the years."

Her nose scrunched up in reaction to his sordid humor and she smacked him playfully on the chest, "Shut up." But it made her smile and he actually snorted out a laugh, so she had to give him credit where it was due.

"Well, like it or not, we're family," Clint assured her, and she huffed out a small laugh at that. "So, you're stuck with us, and when you're not okay, you're supposed to let us take care of you."

"I'm not supposed to break..."

Those gray eyes softened a little, "There's a line for everyone, Nat. Yours was just so much farther than any other person's line was to cross, but everyone breaks eventually. I did... after Loki."

Natasha nodded slightly at that, "I know..."

"And you didn't leave me alone with that."

"I know..." She knew where this was going and she stopped him before he could bother, "I'm not saying to leave me alone, Clint. I'm just saying that—that I need time. This whole thing was my fault, because instead of killing Niko, I—I walked away."

"About that," came Clint's interruption. "Why didn't you?"

It was the same question she had been asking herself since he shoved her face into the wall in Samara. "I don't know," she admitted. A few jingling noises caused her eyes to drift to the end table where Clint's laptop sat and she could see a Skype call from Laura appear on the screen.

"It can wait-"

She leveled him with a playful glare, "You better answer it or I'll punch you _for_ her."

He raised a hand in surrender before he pulled the laptop onto the bed in front of them. She watched as he answered the call, but she never bothered to remove her head from his shoulder.

To Natasha's amusement, and Clint's faux frustration, Laura greeted her first, "Natasha! Thank God, are you alright?"

It was funny in a morbid sort of way, because not many people could throw out a sentence where they 'thanked God' while including her name, and actually manage to sound sincere about it. She really didn't think her name should ever be associated with something that was supposed inspire pure and unadulterated belief in a better afterlife, not when she was destined for purgatory. "I will be," she assured her. It seemed to leave Laura speechless for a moment and Natasha realized that it was the first time she admitted to _not_ being okay. She shifted her teal eyes away almost instantly, "I'll go take a walk."

She was off the bed and on her feet as she ignored both of their attempts to get her to return. She only made it about ten feet down the hall when Bruce caught sight of her and an unsettling feeling dredged it's way into her gut.

"Hey..." came his soft voice. She settled her eyes from the floor and onto him, renewing her attempt to bring back her mask of indifference. "You uh—you're out of your room," the comment was so pathetically obvious that she didn't even blink as she stood in place and stared at him. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the fact he and the Other Guy had saved her life, because she really did, but the awkwardness of how she had clung to him after he pulled her out of the chair just wouldn't go away. Natasha Romanoff didn't _cling,_ just like she didn't _break_. "Can I take a look at your back?" he questioned next. "To—to make sure that it isn't infected."

"It's not, so no, you can't."

Bruce's brown eyes looked a little somber with the sharpness of her tone and she averted her gaze to the wall. She only narrowly avoided his hesitant reach for a comforting touch when she backed a step away. She could see him fidget awkwardly as he retracted his hand to his side in response to her maneuver for distance, "Um... how's your memory?"

"Fine," she answered curtly. It wasn't until she looked back up at him, at the somewhat wary expression he wore, that the revelation hit her. "It was you..."

He looked more then a little perplexed by her statement, "Me?"

"I couldn't figure it out, these last few days, I couldn't understand..."

"Understand what?" his concerned voice only served to frustrate her. "Natasha..."

The moment rang clear in her head.

" _So you just want to kill them?"- "I mean, those two I understand... self defense. But the others? That's murder."_

" _Murder is sort of my area of expertise, Banner."  
"Natasha..._stop _!" – "You know... maybe you should think about what it means that my other half thinks that's a good idea..."_

Bruce's ridiculous lecture to her a few weeks back about killing an unconscious man had been steam-rolling through her mind after she had knocked out Niko Constantin. It had been ridiculous, murder was her bread and butter, it was her life. Murder was what she _knew_ , and yet, suddenly it felt a little foreign to her. Her inability to do the job had gotten her caught, trapped in her childhood nightmare, and it caused her words to drip with a poisonous accusation, "It's your fault..."

The look on his face was one akin to dread, "What did I-"

"I didn't kill him—I..." her voice came out almost strangled and she put her hands to either side of her head. "I didn't...I—I screwed up..."

"Natasha-"

She knew she wasn't making sense and Bruce looked anxious and overwrought with confusion from her rambling. Her head _hurt_ so much and it the words spewed out so quickly that she couldn't control them, "You did this—you—you put that _stupid_ notion in my head!" she groaned out. _Everything_ hurt now. "I should have killed him—I should have...but I didn't..."

"Natasha, you need to calm down," his voice held the attempt to be soothing but instead it only fueled the pain further. "You were doing the right thing-"

Anything else he might have said after that just faded when the memory slammed into her mind.

" _This is the right thing, Natalia, for Russia," Madame told her. "You must learn to be the best, this will make you the best." But why was Madame's face missing? The usual blonde, tightly-wound bun, still sat atop her head. Her posture still looked rigid and foreboding and menacing. She had no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Yet, somehow, she still looked of blood and death and torture._

" _I don't like the chair, Madame..."_

" _You are not supposed to like it," the elder woman informed her coldly. "But it will make you strong. It will make you perfect. Your soul will be_ pure. _You want to be strong and perfect and pure, do you not, Natalia? You will be like me." She didn't believe Madame had a soul, that was why she had no face._

" _Yes, Madame." Every eight-year-old wanted to be perfect. The girls of Red Room thrived on the thought of perfection, of course, that was if they didn't die for failing to achieve it. She got in the chair of her own accord, though she knew even if she didn't, she would have been forced into it anyways._

" _Do not scream, do not cry. You are marble, you cannot be broken, you cannot fail."_

" _Yes, Madame..." Natalia wasn't sure she herself even had a soul. When she looked in the mirror she saw that same empty face._

"I haven't survived this long by _doing the right thing_ ," she hissed out. "It wasn't the right thing," and she was on a warpath that she couldn't control now, "The right thing doesn't get you put into a damned chair that hacks away, and tears, and _rips_ away everything you've ever known!"

"Nat!" Clint's voice was on edge and it dragged her out of her mind, "Nat...let him go."

 _Let him go?_ She sucked in a few shaky breaths and her vision started to clear. It took a second before she realized that she had Bruce against the wall with the collar of his shirt clenched in her fists. Her eyes widened a little and she dropped her hands as she quickly backed away. "Shit..." she mumbled out as she stumbled back and fell against the wall opposite of him. "I'm sorry, I'm—I..." she whispered. She pulled her knees to her chest and she couldn't catch her breath, "I didn't mean it..."

Surprisingly, Bruce didn't seem angry at all, or like he was on the verge of changing into the Other guy, instead he just looked grief-stricken, "Natasha... it's alright." About as alright as when she had flipped him onto his back for waking her up from a nightmare. She stiffened when he sat beside her and it was all she could do to not to recoil when Bruce put his arm around her. Jarvis must have alerted all of them, because not only was Clint there, but now Tony and Pepper were in the hallway as well, and all of them looked at her with equally disturbed concern. "It's okay..."

"It's not okay..." she heaved out another breath but instead she was fairly certain she was hyperventilating. "It's not okay—I—I—I..."

"Alright, alright," came Bruce's wary voice. "It doesn't have to be okay, you just need to breathe, Natasha," he told her softly.

The pain seared through her head again and all she really wanted to do was cry, but she knew she wouldn't, she didn't cry, and the drugs were so clearly still in her system.

 _She was nine when they started the first conditioning training for the girls to endure physical pain. Training that didn't include pain from the chair, or pain from sparring with the other girls in the facility. Natalia was picked to go first, Madame always made her go first. She said it was because she believed she was the only girl in the facility that was meant to be perfect. The Madame's attentions toward her always made the other girls jealous, something Natalia didn't find fair. She hadn't asked for it._

 _She hadn't asked for any of this._

 _Nevertheless, she stood on the pavement of the sparring area, and she tried her best to anticipate whatever might happen to her. Nothing prepared her for it. Nothing could prepare any child for it. The man stepped out in front of her, a wooden kendo stick in each of his hands and a moment later, the first one slammed across her face._

 _She fell to the ground before she could stop it and she could see Madame sigh with disappointment at her failure._

" _Get up."_

 _Natalia did, but the second the wooden stick cracked against her gut, and she fell back to the ground._

" _Again."_

 _It was already a struggle to get to her feet, but she did it, then another blow from the stick hit her jaw and she_ tasted _the blood._

" _This is pathetic, Natalia. Get up, do it again. You will keep doing it until you stay on your feet. You will keep failing if you don't breathe through the pain. You need to breathe."_

 _She never managed to stay on her feet that day, none of the girls did, and the agony lasted for hours. It took a month of it, but Natalia made sure she was the first one not to fall down, she was always the first. She hadn't asked for this, but she was going to be the best at it._

She shook her head vehemently. "I can't break—I can't break..." she didn't even recognize her own voice when she repeated the mantra, "I'm marble, I don't break, I don't fail."

For a second she thought it was Bruce who pulled her up into his arms and she was about ready to struggle. It was bad enough he had just been, in a sense, hugging her. A moment later she realized that she recognized the the arm under her back and the arm under her knees, that they belonged to someone more familiar. She was being carried away by Clint, back into her bedroom, and it was the last thing she really remembered for that day. But it vaguely reminded her of ten years ago.

 _All she ever did was sit in the chair of the musky hotel room, or sit on the bed, or on the couch. Every time she closed her eyes demons littered her dreams. Demons that wore her face and did things she couldn't fathom as reality. They killed people, they tortured them, they seduced them to their deaths with promises of unending love and pleasure, when reality was, it would be unending hate and pain. Their facade of love and adoration was a pretense to the venom they would pour into their souls._

 _The man that brought her here, Nikolao, he said it was for her own good. He said he was saving her just like he saved himself. She didn't believe him, not for a single second. This wasn't being saved, this was being tortured through mind games. After the first week the demons didn't even wait until she was asleep. They were all around her, they showed her everything. They showed her what she could do to the man who came through the window with the ridiculous bow and arrow aimed at her. She figured he was just another figment of her drug induced imagination come to life, because honestly, what assassin in their right mind used a bow and arrow?_

 _He looked like a demon, too. The dark blonde, nearly brown hair spiked up and those gray eyes staring fiercely at her. Or maybe he was just here to finally end her torture. That wouldn't be so bad. The words left her lips before he could decide where to place the lethal arrow in her body, "Is it over?"_

 _For a moment he stared at her with his brow ruffled, an attempt to discern what she meant, if she had to hazard a guess. "Your life?" it flowed from his mouth like silk and she cherished the idea that he might put a conclusion to this haze of fact or fiction that had become her life._

 _All she could do was nod._

 _The bow lowered just slightly, but not so much that it didn't still carry lethal intent. "Do you want it to be?" came his question, though his tone held no emotion, and she found that comfortingly familiar._

" _More then anything." He just stared at her as though she were a liar, and she supposed she actually was, just not this time. The walls weren't screaming, that was a sign, it was her turn. "It is my turn, I am ready."_

" _How old are you?" came his next question. There was something different in his voice now, something that was quite so cold and empty like before._

 _She dragged her teal eyes slowly, from the wall and over to him, before she answered, "Twenty." It seemed to change his entire demeanor, though she couldn't discern why that was. "Why does that matter now?"_

" _Now?"_

" _It never mattered before," she reminded him._

" _How long have you been—doing this?"_

 _Her head tilted to the side as she stared at him and she blinked a few times. "I have always done this, this is my life," she reminded him. Her mind only caught up with his face and uniform a few moments later and her eyes stared in wild realization at who she had just answered to. "You are not them," she spat out as she stood to her feet._

" _Them?"_

 _The string of Russian expletives left her lips and he actually looked vaguely amused by her vulgarity. She hadn't stood in so long and it brought a rush of pain to her head. It was agonizing and unending, all she could do was put her hands to either side of her head and further expletives left her mouth, though this time they were in English. Something almost akin to concern seemed to flash over his face when he noticed it was real rather than a false pretense to lower his guard._

" _What did they do to you?"_

" _Everything... it hurts..." Her mouth hung open for a moment as she dropped back into the chair, then she looked back at him in wonder. "You are not real..." she whispered. "If you were real then I would be dead. Too good to be true..."_

 _He looked a little ashamed of that, as though he was attempting to make a decision. "I'm real," but she only shook her head at that and she watched as he stepped towards her and crouched down. The arrow that had been previously notched was now resting with the sharpened tip at her throat as he spoke again, "I should kill you, my job was to kill you." She wasn't sure she comprehended_ why _he hadn't yet, not if he was real. "But you don't need to die... you just need help."_

" _You have no idea how wrong you are..."_

" _I don't think I am," he disagreed. "I think you want to be different, I don't think you want—whatever this is," he stated as he motioned around the room with his free hand._

" _This is hell..."_

" _You have a choice here."_

" _Is that supposed to be funny?" she questioned as she squinted at him. He didn't look like one of her demons. He had a face; a face that wasn't hers._

 _He frowned at that, "It's not funny at all," he assured her. "Do you want to die, or do you want to try and be better?"_

" _I do not think there is a difference. I think death is the way for me to be better. You do not see what I see."_

" _I see someone who seems hurt and lost—I see someone who can be different."_

 _She narrowed her eyes at that and watched the turmoil the demons of her mind played out in a false reality just behind him, all the different ways she could kill him just in this exact moment, "You must not be able to see what I see right now."_

" _What do you see?"_

" _I am death."_

 _He looked a little flummoxed by her response, "Then be death for the right reasons."_

" _Is there such a thing?"_

" _Only one way you're going to find out," he told her. "So, do you want the arrow? Or do you want a second chance?"_

" _What good would a second chance do?" she dared to ask, though she wasn't sure if she actually cared or not._

 _He shrugged at that, "Maybe you can wipe out some red from that ledger of yours."_

 _Natalia supposed it couldn't be any worse than her current hell, "Okay."_

" _Okay?"_

 _All she could do was nod her head in agreement, because the room had begun to spin in circles, his face spun in circles too, and her vision went black around the edges. She just remembered him barely moving the arrow out of the way in time when she fell forward before he lifted her with ease and carried her out._

* * *

Nobody besides Clint tried to come into her room again for another four days, and the person who did finally breach her walls, wasn't the person she actually expected.

"Miss Romanoff, Miss Potts is requesting your permission to enter to your quarters." Natasha arched an eyebrow up at Jarvis' words and she remained quiet in response. "Shall I tell her to come back later?" the AI questioned after her silence ensued for to long.

"You can let her in," she finally relented. She supposed that a week of solitude, Clint and her one explosion with Bruce excluded, was long enough. Maybe the drug really was out of her system now and she wouldn't have to deal with anymore memories surging to life and out of control. She watched as Pepper came into the room, clearly with enough smarts to proceed with caution, and so she waited to hear what the other woman would have to say.

Pepper gave her a soft smile, "Mind if I join you?" Natasha shrugged before she motioned for the other redhead to join her on the couch. "I know, we don't really know each other," she tacked on before she continued any further, "But sometimes that's a little more helpful than someone you actually do know." She supposed it was a legitimate idea. "Anyways, I just thought you could use a little pick me up," and she briefly wondered if Tony's girlfriend was about to give her a bottle of vodka, but instead, Pepper pulled out something even more unexpected.

Natasha arched an eyebrow up immediately when the ridiculously adorable, green and muscly Hulk stuffed animal, was held out to her. It was wearing a damned knight's costume and there was absolutely no control over her response when her the corners of her lips twitched before they curled up into a smile.

"Oh good, I was honestly afraid I was crossing a line here," Pepper admitted with a laugh of relief when she took the Hulk stuffed animal from her.

She couldn't help it, Natasha's shoulders just started to shake from silent laughter and then finally, the actual noise of laughter fell from her lips. "This is..." she paused, trying to snuff the fit of laughter, "This is the funniest thing I've ever seen..." she was laughing even harder now. "Where did you get this?"

"Build-a-bear," Pepper answered with a grin. "Totally worth it."

Natasha was still chuckling a few minutes later and there were _actual_ tears in her eyes. "Shit..." she mumbled out as she rubbed at her eyes. "I don't think I've ever laughed that hard," she admitted with an absurd sniffle and then another chuckle escaped her lips.

At least the other woman looked both thrilled and pleased with the comment and her reaction. "Seemed fitting," she admitted with a smile and a shrug.

She shifted the Hulk stuffed animal around in her hands as she studied it, then a frown formed with her next sobering thought, "You think Bruce will ever see the Other Guy like this?"

"Doubt it," Pepper answered honestly, "But Doctor Banner is pretty pessimistic about most things, not just his angrier half."

"I blamed him..."

But Pepper just shook her head at that, "You didn't mean it."

She was smiling at her again and it only served to make Natasha feel phenomenally worse, "I don't even remember pinning him against the wall—I hurt him." She closed her eyes at that and sighed, "He willingly became the Other Guy in an uncontrolled environment to protect me. Tony could have done it alone, he didn't need to-"

"He wanted to," Pepper cut in.

She ignored it. "And I hurt him..." Natasha could see Pepper's eyes soften, "I didn't deserve that rescue."

"That's not true, what you didn't deserve was what happened to you."

She huffed out a sad laugh at that, "You have no idea how wrong you are, Pepper."

Pepper frowned at that and poked the Hulk stuffed animal, "You're worried that Bruce can't see the Hulk in shining armor," she mentioned, "You can see it in the Hulk, so why can't you see it in yourself?"

"It's different."

"It's not," Pepper disagreed. "It's going to be hard to convince someone else to see a hero in themselves when you can't convince yourself to see your own."

Natasha hesitated at that before she finally responded, "I look in the mirror and I can't see a hero," she admitted as she shifted the Hulk stuffed animal around in her hands again. "I can't see something that isn't there, I can't see something that I wasn't made to be."

Pepper gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, "Maybe that's the problem." She glanced over at the other woman and frowned at that, "Maybe it's time to stop being what someone else made you and start being what you want to make yourself." And the redhead gave a little shrug as she stood up, "Just a little food for thought, I should get back to work, but uh—I'm supposed to let you know, your last blood test came back clear for the drugs. No more funny business."

"Thanks," it was a pathetic attempt at gratitude and she knew it, none of the last week was ever going to just go away simply because the drugs were nonexistent again, but at least now she could _deal_ with it without completely losing control of her emotions. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Natasha questioned as she held up the Hulk toy.

"That was for you," Pepper answered with a knowing smile, "You can hide it with the other one."

Natasha chuckled at that and she laughed just a little harder when she pulled out the ridiculous birth certificate from the back of the cloth armor that read his name as: 'HuggaHulk'. Just what she needed, a damned collection of stuffed animals.

* * *

She only hid HuggaHulk for a day. "Jarvis, where is Doctor Banner?" she questioned the AI.

"In the theater room, Miss Romanoff."

"Thanks," she murmured as she left her room with HuggaHulk in tow. It was ridiculous that the stupid little stuffed animal actually made her feel better, but each time she looked at it, she couldn't help but laugh. It only took her a few minutes to get from her room, to the elevator and then finally to the theater room and he was sitting on the couch, watching another black and white movie. "What's this one?" she dared to interrupt.

She watched as Bruce looked back at her in surprise and she could see him attempt a debate in his head on whether or not she was alright without actually asking the question.

"I'm—not okay, but I'm better," she offered up.

It only seemed to add to his surprise, but thankfully, he decided not to push her on the matter. "Great Expectations," he finally answered as he rubbed his shoulder with a sheepish shrug, "You uh—want to watch it?" She did, which she found strange all on it's own, but she wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea. The whole 'go talk to Banner' thing had seemed like a much better idea before she actually found him. Unfortunately, she was saved from speaking when he noticed what was in her hands, and he actually looked dumbfounded at the sight of it, "Wh—what is that?"

Natasha's teal eyes drifted down to her hands before she glanced back over at the bewildered Bruce Banner. The corners of her lips tugged into a smile and she tossed the stuffed animal at him.

Bruce caught it, fumbled it in the air for a moment, then managed to steady it in his grasp before he asked, "Is this—supposed to be the Other Guy?"

"Mmhmm."

It was near impossible not to laugh at the astounded look in Bruce's widened eyes, "Why is it wearing a knight costume?"

"It's HuggaHulk," she informed him with an expressionless tone, though admittedly, she was finding it harder and harder not to laugh at his face. "Knight in shining armor," she expanded on the answer, as though that explained everything that needed to be known about the toy.

"Hu—huggahulk?!" his dumbstruck astonishment was all it took. She completely cracked and she actually hunched over and let out a laugh, one that was even harder than when Pepper had given her the damned stuffed animal. Seeing Bruce hold HuggaHulk in sheer disbelief and horror was one of the funniest moments she had ever experienced.

Apparently the fact that she found it so humorous was enough for him, because she actually saw his face contort a little before he smiled and shook his head, "This is the most absurd thing I've ever seen..." he admitted with a chuckle.

"Has your dementia finally reached the point of sheer lunacy?" came Tony's comment from behind her. She watched him walk in beside her, then his eyes shifted to look to Bruce, and then—HuggaHulk. For just a moment, both his eyebrows rose up and he was speechless...for all of about sixty seconds, "Huh..." he hummed out and she watched Tony walk over and pluck the stuffed animal from Bruce's hands. "That's _adorable_ , he looks just like you. What's his name?" he questioned, then he looked over at her, "Tell me you named this thing Romanoff."

"HuggaHulk."

"Hugga-" Tony stared at her with his lips parted, and then he snickered, "Natasha, you've left me speechless, I didn't know you had it in you."

"It's a miracle," Bruce deadpanned.

Natasha smirked as she plucked the stuffed animal from his grasp, "Hands off my HuggaHulk, Stark." She watched Bruce as he hid his embarrassed face behind his hands and she chuckled before she decided to give him a pass when she saw someone behind Tony, "Besides, Pepper made it."

"I _knew_ this couldn't be your genius," Tony gave a fist pump in reaction, "My woman is brilliant sometimes."

"Your woman?" Natasha questioned as she quirked an eyebrow up.

" _Sometimes_?" came Pepper's voice.

Tony looked like a kid who got his hand caught in the cookie jar, "Uh—Pepper," he called out as he followed after the woman who stalked down the hall. The last thing Natasha heard was, "Pepper—sweetie—that's not how I meant for that to come out!"

She smirked and gave Bruce a wink.

"That was cold, Natasha," but she could see the amusement in his eyes. It wasn't as though Bruce had warned his best friend that his girlfriend was standing behind him.

"Oh no, that was _my_ genius," she teased before she turned to leave. She didn't have it in her to have a heart to heart just yet, "Raincheck on the movie," she called over her shoulder, and she took HuggaHulk back to her room.

* * *

 **HuggaHulk, HUGGASMASH! xD Needed a little lighthearted moment at the end for Natasha here. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** HuggaHulk is giving everyone a big and warm HuggaHulkHello. Who wants a 'The Adventures of HuggaHulk' story? LOL.

This chapter will be a split-perspective. Part one, Natasha. Part two, Bruce. Part three, Natasha. Though, I'm sure you would have figured it out without me telling you, they will be separated by a line break **:)** Also, time to delve a bit more into Bruce.

This one is for **Ninja0404** for giving me the best delirious sleep-deprived laugh last night.

 **Chapter 9** :

"Hey, Doc?" Natasha called out as she stepped into the lab. She ruffled her brow a bit as she glanced around, but she didn't see him anywhere. It was eerily silent inside and she wandered further in, "Bruce, you in here?" A snarl sounded out and she shifted her eyes into the direction of the containment cell to take a good look at the Hulk inside. It was unusual for the raging beast to be so quiet, though she knew for a fact he could be stealthy and silent, regardless of his size. "Hey, Big Guy," she offered in greeting as she took a few steps towards the safety glass.

He didn't move from where he was in the center of the cell, but he did look in her direction. She hadn't seen Bruce in nearly three days, not since the HuggaHulk showing in the theater room. It was mostly her fault, she knew that for a fact, because she had blamed him for what happened to her when she was lost in a haze of drugs and vivid memories of the past. In one sense, she had meant it, but in another, she knew it was never really his fault. Her choices were her own, and it wasn't as though Bruce Banner had any effect over her decision making skills. _Right?_

Regardless of it being a week and a half since she had been back in the tower, she still looked like a wreck. Her back still felt like the needles were inside it and she always woke up with a fear that maybe she never made it out. Being knifed three times in as many weeks was equally as unsettling as the rest of it and her leg hadn't adjusted quite so well yet, though she blamed that on lack of exercise and training. Natasha needed a session in the gym, just to let off steam. She realized after a moment that he was the easiest one for her to talk to, not that he would actually listen, so she supposed it was more like 'talk at'. The Hulk wouldn't lecture, or care, or look at her with pity. "I didn't get to thank you," she added softly as she put her hand up to the glass.

He was regarding her with a sour look and all he did was continue to release heavy breaths and stare at her. "You saved me," she reminded him as she dropped her hand down to her side and sat down with her legs folded under her. "You could—you know—growl, if my talking pisses you off."

The Hulk didn't make a noise.

"You're mad at me," she realized as she ran her hand through her hair. She watched him snort and look away, "Because I blamed Bruce."

Now he scowled at her.

"I'm mad at me, too," and that just seemed to confuse him, but at least it was something besides ignorance and anger. "Is Bruce mad?"

This time he snarled, and there was an imperceptible shake of his angry face.

"So... not mad, but I did upset him..."

The noise he made now was a little more hostile.

"Right—only Bruce wouldn't be mad..." She thought his next noise was a snort of amusement, but with the Big Guy it was a little hard to decipher. "It wasn't his fault," she admitted with a sigh. "It was mine, I just thought it was easier to blame him."

He was silent again.

"There a reason you aren't throwing things around and stomping like Godzilla, Big Guy?" and she flinched when he tossed one of the bricks inside the containment cell into the safety glass right in front of her. "Guess I deserve that," and this time he actually looked like he agreed with her. _Why the hell does Tony think it's a good idea to give him things to throw?_ She rolled her shoulders with a slight wince and tried to adjust for the dozens of needle pricks that still caused her discomfort. They were gone, they hadn't been in her back for a week and a half, but she still _felt_ them. Not that she told anyone that, or showed them.

She had sent Clint back off to the farm yesterday with a promise to visit sooner rather than later, apparently Laura had news she needed to share with him and she didn't want to Skype it. Much as Natasha was reluctant to admit it, she missed him already, and she knew now that her statement a week ago had been right. She really had built her life around him and his family, and it really wasn't fair to intrude on them as much as she had. "You ever feel like you were meant to be alone, Big Guy?" she asked softly, though he didn't answer, The Hulk never did. "Every time I try to do the right thing, it always seems to be the wrong thing," she admitted with her eyes staring across the cell. She didn't actually look at him, instead she simply looked to the side of him.

Be the best, that was the wrong decision. Join SHIELD, another wrong decision, given they weren't actually the good guys. Put SHIELD, or HYDRA, files onto the internet for the world to see; she wasn't sure on that one, but she imagined it was on the line of right and wrong. Right, because the world knew the evil that existed. Wrong, because she was certain it led to the deaths of many innocent agents who were in the field.

There was still unwavering silence from the beast and she wasn't sure what to make of it, but just like the first time she had talked to him, he did seem to be listening. "Barton always tries to make it sound like I've never had a choice to be what I am," she tacked on. "But there was, I didn't have to become this—" she paused in thought, "...Murderer." That had been Bruce's word for what she did and who she was, at any rate, and she figured it was appropriate. "I could have made a different choice, chosen _not_ to be the best," she shrugged again, then scrunched up her nose to hide another grimace at the discomfort. "I could have just withered away in that hellhole when I was eight, it would have saved a lot of people a lot of grief," she rubbed at her eyes now. "At least back then I had the excuse of just being a child, or as close to one as I could have been. Don't know what my excuse is these days, whatever it is, it probably sucks though."

The Hulk's eyes still stared right at her and she finally let her gaze settle on him when she watched him heave out a breath before he stomped his way toward her. "Guess you're the only one whose never really had a choice," she mentioned wistfully. "You didn't ask for this, you didn't ask to be so angry...you didn't ask to be feared," she added with a frown. There was a _thump_ as the floor rattled a little under her and she quirked an eyebrow up in surprise as the Big Guy dropped backwards onto his rear in an attempt to match her position. "People are afraid of you because you're the monster they _can_ see," she explained with a delicate tone, "But they should be more afraid of the ones they _can't_ see, the ones like me."

It felt like she was being dissected by him for a moment. He just stared with his eternally enraged face and tried to discern whatever meaning was supposed to be held within her words. "Personally, I don't think you're a monster," she informed him with a small smile. "Monsters don't go around saving the damsel in distress, do they?" _Unless it's that damned Shrek movie Lila and Cooper like so much._ Natasha knew better then that, there were no such thing as happy endings. "You saved me..." her words echoed through the silent lab, "You and Bruce and—and I didn't deserve to be saved, I never did..."

She knitted her eyebrows a little when the Big Guy pushed his hand against the glass before she pressed hers against the opposite side. She watched his head turn, and she angled her gaze to follow as he looked at the button on Tony's computers, the button that would open the cell. She shifted her teal eyes back to land on him and she gave him a sad smile, "I think you and I know that _would_ piss off Bruce."

Again, it was hard to decipher, but he seemed to snort in amusement.

Of course, the brief moment of clarity and understanding ended the moment Tony came through the doors of the lab. The Big Guy snarled, scowled, sent the billionaire a seething glare and then _rolled_ to his feet, followed by a roaring tyrade through the cell; and then another brick hit the safety glass in front of her.

"Oh good, and here I thought it was just me he threw bricks at," and she supposed that meant Tony hadn't just seen the Big Guy sitting there calm and collected(mostly).

"Shut up, Stark," she mumbled out as she stood and left.

She heard Tony's amused tone talk to The Hulk as she left, "Yeesh, what crab crawled up her ass today?"

* * *

" _He's not normal, Rebecca!"_

" _Brian, stop. There's nothing wrong with Bruce, you're making something out of nothing!"_

 _Bruce sat behind his bedroom door, knees hugged to his chest, as he listened to the usual squabbling of his parents that always with him at the center of it._

" _Nothing? His IQ is borderline genius, he's six! He's a mutant! A genetic_ freak _."_

" _Stop it! He can hear you!"_

" _Stop defending the sniveling little brat, Rebecca. He's a monster!"_

" _You need to stop drinking, you need to stop this!"_

 _There it was. Bruce heard the resounding noise where his father's open hand met his mother's face and he winced as his body visibly shook. Then the loud footsteps were getting closer._

" _Brian! Brian, no!"_

" _Get out of the way!"_

 _The thud against the wall nearby echoed and Bruce scurried quickly away from the door. He never made it fully under the bed when his door crashed open and the hand gripped his foot and dragged him back out across the floor. "No! Dad, no!"_

" _Brian, let him go!"_

 _He watched in wide-eyed terror when his father shoved her to the floor and then Bruce felt fingers grip his hair tightly and pull him on his feet. Always a savior though, Rebecca was back up on her feet and shoving Brian, a useless endeavor to get his father to release him._

 _It worked, but only because Brian was shifting his attention to his wife again._

" _I've had enough from you!"_

 _Bruce couldn't do anything when his father dragged her by her hair out of the room. He was left to bang his hands uselessly against the door because Brian had put the lock on the outside of the bedroom to keep him in the room. "Stop it! Dad! Stop it!" Useless. It was always useless. He could only bang on the door and scream and yell for so long before he gave up and sat against it again, his hands pressed tightly over his ears. One day he was going to be bigger; one day he could protect her like she protected him._

He stared at the old and faded picture in his hands, studied the brown eyes of his mother that looked back at him.

"She's pretty." Bruce's breath caught in his throat for a moment as he turned to look at Natasha behind him, but she ignored his surprise and spoke again, "You look a lot alike." Then the redhead gave him a tightlipped smile as she looked to the picture and then at him again, "I think it's the eyes, you've got her eyes."

"Her eyes?"

Natasha gave a slight inclination of her head in affirmation. "They're kind, like yours," she mentioned offhandedly, and if she had noticed the faint red tinge that crossed his face, she ignored it.

"Thanks..." he muttered before he folded the old picture up and put it back in his pocket.

"You okay?" her neutral tone extinguished itself when she asked and he frowned a little at that, because it meant that he must have appeared rather transparent after having gotten lost in the past. Bruce realized he was silent for too long after her question because she came around to sit on the couch with him, though she did leave an abundance of space between them, which was something he appreciated. Her voice came out a little softer and uncertain now, "I still owe you an apology..."

He hadn't seen her since her outburst in the hall, though he knew she had come to look for him, because he remembered the entirety of her conversation with his other half. That never happened and it had left him dumbstruck when he had come back from the transformation. It also left him unsettled and unsure of what to say to her, not to mention, that had been two days ago and she hadn't sought him out since. Natasha was hard to understand and hard to talk to, especially when her voice and her face hid everything she didn't want others to see and hear.

It wasn't to say he hadn't seen a bit of who she was and how she became this way over the last few weeks, but he was certain this didn't even dent the things that had been done to her through her life. Regardless, it seemed impossible that someone could hide away again so fast, especially not after what he had seen from her, not after what he had pulled her out of.

When he saw Natasha in that chair, saw her body convulse from shocks as she tried to deny the serum it's grasp on her mind, it was almost as horrifying as the day he watched his mother die; agonizing and horrifying and for no good reason except that there were horrible people in the world; like his father, like Strucker, like Nikolao Constantin, like Red Room. Stealing innocence and twisting it into despair, twisting it into the woman sitting on the couch with him.

She thought she was a monster, that she deserved to get tortured in that chair, and it made him nauseous to think that she believed any of her life had been her fault.

"Bruce?" Her voice had gained a more worrisome tone to it and he realized quickly that he had been staring at her without saying a single word.

He took his glasses off and put them in his pocket before he looked at her again, "You don't owe me anything." He watched those teal eyes as they tried to decipher some hidden agenda behind his words.

Apparently, she didn't believe him, and her words proved it, "I do." Her gaze shifted away from him to study the wall, "An apology, a thank you—" and she paused again in thought, "I should probably let you flip me over your shoulder and throw me against a wall too, just to be sure were even."

"That's not funny, Natasha." It really wasn't, but nothing on her face or in her voice had actually said she was joking.

"It wasn't supposed to be," her tone was flat and even again.

Sometimes just a five minute conversation with her exhausted him beyond belief and he rubbed his eyes tiredly, "You weren't yourself."

"Mmm... so everybody keeps saying," she hummed out in response. "It doesn't change the fact that I hurt you—"

"You didn't hurt me," he assured her. Bruce hunched over with a haggard sigh, "You were the one in pain, you're still in pain—"

"I'm fine," she cut in quickly.

He gave Natasha a look of sheer disbelief, "Fine? You're not fine, no one in their right mind would be."

Her eyes narrowed a little in response before her teal eyes settled him with a cold look, and this wasn't really how he imagined this conversation would go. "That's the point though, right, Doc? I'm not in my right mind, or at least, you seem to think I shouldn't be."

Why did she find it so easy to spill her secrets and her pain to the Other Guy, and then easier still, to turn around to be flippant with him?

"You want to know _my_ secret, Bruce?" He did, but at the same time, he didn't. "You're right," she admitted. It left him speechless and she spoke again with a more hollow voice, "I'm not fine, and I never will be. But that's not the point, because _fine_ is who I am, and it's who I have to pretend to be."

His brow ruffled in response to that, "Why?"

Natasha's teal eyes looked a little haunted for a moment before she slipped it back behind the mask. "If I don't shove it down, I may never come back from it," she admitted quietly. "I said I can't break, that I can't fail—but the truth is..." she shook her head, "On the inside I'm already ripped apart."

 _That_ was something he could understand, "I get that..."

"Do you?"

Bruce had a feeling she was playing him again, that she had only opened this can of worms to get him to speak, and this time he decided he would let it work, "When I was eight, I watched my father kill my mother."

Anything she might have been about to say seemed to have died on her parted lips. It was the first time he saw her truly speechless and her mask had disappeared with such velocity that he wasn't even sure Google could find it.

"It was always about me," he told her quietly. "He thought there was something wrong with me—too smart, he always said. It wasn't right, I wasn't right. I was a genetic freak—a monster," he gave a sad chuckle at that. "You can imagine the irony of that now..."

She was quiet for a moment and he imagined she was trying to decide the best method to even respond to such a sensitive topic. Instead she echoed the words she had spoken to his other half, "I don't think you're a monster..."

"You'd be the first."

He had seen a whirlwind of emotions of the normally stoic woman next to him, but this one now was something he couldn't begin to comprehend. A mixture of sad and angry and uncertainty was warped together over her expression as she looked at him and then she edged a little closer to him. Bruce couldn't help but shift awkwardly when she was _too_ close in his personal space and then her words came out in such a cheerless tone, "Bruce—I already know what you're thinking, that you're like him..." She wasn't wrong. "You would never hurt someone like that."

"You don't really know me," he informed her curtly.

She angled her head to the side slightly but she didn't disagree, "I suppose not." Natasha's teal eyes glanced away for a moment as she leaned her elbow on the back of the couch near his head. A moment later she rested her cheek on that same hand and finally looked back at him, "But I don't need to know you very well to know that even when someone hurts you—" She glanced away again, "Physically or emotionally..." she tacked on without daring to look back again, "You don't fault them for it, or try to hurt them back..." she let out a small breath before her voice trudged on, "You forgive them—that's not what monsters do."

It took him a moment to actually meet her eyes but he didn't see anything other than sincerity in them, not that he was sure he should take that with more than a grain of salt; Natasha did lie for a living.

Then she shrugged and gave him the barest of smiles before she tapped his cheek playfully with her free hand, "Maybe you need to look at yourself through someone else's eyes. Take it from someone else who finds it impossible to see anything else when they look in the mirror."

Bruce released a chuckle of disbelief at that, "So—look at myself how you see me?"

"Mhmm."

"And how is that?"

There it was, her signature quirk of the eyebrow and then her lips curled into coy smile. _Uh-oh_. Natasha's hand disappeared behind her back and then HuggaHulk was in his face. _Where the hell did she even hide that?_ Yet another instance where he assumed he would have face-palmed if people actually did such a thing. "Maybe Pepper gave him to the wrong person." _Oh boy..._

"Yeah... I'm not taking that."

She smirked at his comment and put it back wherever the hell she had pulled it from to begin with, "That's fine, I sleep with him anyways." His face turned redder than before and he had a feeling she did that on purpose when her voice took on a note of amusement, "Platonically, of course."

"Of course..." and she just _had_ to make it worse.

Then she shrugged again, "So... you said a while back that there was something that helped you get through—childhood struggles."

"Uh..." he frowned when he recalled that particular conversation having taken a bad turn.

"What was it?"

Bruce took a second to think about that, "Already showed it to you."

Natasha's eyebrows knitted together at that before she seemed to come to the conclusion, "Ah... the movies." And she smiled a little once again, "Just the classics, right?"

"Er...yeah."

"I was hoping that was it," she added with a new smile he hadn't seen on her before. This smile was so different from the ones she purposely planted on her face for different moments and he imagined this one was her _real_ smile; one that didn't show unless she wasn't hiding behind her many masks and personas. The redhead stood up abruptly, and he was _still_ at a loss for where the abomination that was 'HuggaHulk' was being hidden on her person, then she held out a pair of tickets. "Saw that there was this mini-marathon of classic movies going on down on 10th," she mentioned offhandedly, and then she shrugged, "Seemed like a good apology, not that I know what either movie is."

"Which ones?" He couldn't believe he was actually considering this.

Natasha pulled the tickets closer to her face for a moment, "Dr. Strangelove and Roman Holiday."

She had him at the first one and the second was just icing on the cake, but even so, he still wasn't sure, "I don't really do— _public_ —well."

Her shrug of indifference actually made him feel a little better, "These days neither do I, so let's go." Bruce supposed he couldn't argue with _that,_ especially when she held her hand out to help him off the couch, then proceeded to wiggle her fingers around in an effort to get him to take it, "C'mon, Doctor. Don't let a girl down."

He couldn't resist the chuckle he let out when she said it in a husky voice that _reeked_ of classic noir, so he let her pull him up off the couch.

Her smile was contagious, especially when she hit him with an infamous Casablanca quote, "Bruce, I think this is beginning of a _beautiful_ friendship."

And he honestly couldn't help but laugh at that, so he retorted in kind with another Casablanca quote, "Here's looking at you, kid."

Natasha's face was caught between a mixture of stunned and impressed, so he supposed he caught her off guard when he decided to quote the movie back to her.

And then she grinned, "Well played, Doctor Dork. Let's go."

He wasn't sure exactly how to handle the more 'playful' Natasha Romanoff.

* * *

"See? That wasn't so bad," Natasha pointed out to him as she tugged him out of the movie theater by his arm. She could see his slight discomfort with the physical contact, but she was determined to ignore it. She had to assume nobody had noticed who they were for the moment, given that thus far, nobody had stared or attempted pictures or videos.

Other than his discomfort with her need to drag him around by the arm, he didn't seem overtly bothered by the outing and he seemed to have enjoyed the movies, though he wasn't always the easiest person to read. "They're doing it again next week," and she quirked an eyebrow up as she turned her face to look at him. Bruce seemed vehement about keeping his eyes on anything and everything _except_ for her after his comment and his next words forced a chuckle from her mouth before she could stop it, "I mean... if you want to."

"Hrm..." she hummed out as she watched his eyes drift over to her with uncertainty. Suddenly it just felt a little mean to tease him when he was so obviously uncomfortable out in the world. "Why not?" she finally conceded. She didn't dwell on the relieved chuckle that huffed from his lips, "Beats Disney movies with Barton, anyhow."

Natasha could _swear_ there was a sudden impish glimmer in his brown eyes now and he proved his intentions when he spoke, "Since you brought it up..." his tone smelled of false innocence.

She quirked an eyebrow up almost immediately and narrowed her eyes as she stared at him. "Brought what up?" she dared to ask.

"I mean—you and Barton. There has to be a story for how you two got together," he mentioned with a shrug.

Now both her eyebrows quirked up in response, "Uh—well, he offered me a choice of die or defect," she stated with a shrug. "I chose the latter, for what little good that's done the world."

She watched Bruce's brow wrinkle as he tried to read into that and then he spoke again, "Yeah—that's not really what I meant."

It took another second before the 'got together' part actually made sense in her head and then she snickered, "Doctor Banner, are you asking if I'm sleeping with Barton?"

His face turned an intense shade of red that she hadn't ever fathomed possible from somebody other than the prudish Steve Rogers. "Uh—I was..." he stumbled all over the words and she hid her amusement as much as she could muster up in this moment. "That's not really—what I meant..." he added quickly. "I just—you know... uh..."

Natasha just let him struggle on with an impassive face as she continued down the sidewalk with his arm hooked in hers.

"Well uh—how long have the two of you been—you know... in love?"

Now she actually stopped walking which, in effect, yanked him to a sudden halt as well. If the people of New York cared, they didn't show it as they simply waded and parted around them. "Well... that's a new one," she mumbled as she dragged him forward once more. "Gotta say, Doc... you're the first one with the balls to even ask about me and Barton, let alone, dare to say the word _love._ "

"Sorry...that was probably a little too personal?"

She shrugged a little at that, "It's fine. Wasn't the whole relationship part of the question that really threw me off, just the whole 'love' part of it." He must not have remembered her retort to Loki about love being for children.

"Oh." She watched as Bruce's brow ruffled again in thought, clearly unsure about what to say next, but he drudged forward nonetheless, "So—you don't love him? Does he know that?"

"Of course he knows that," she answered. Natasha couldn't help but give him a strange look before she chuckled again, "You think he's in love with me?"

"Ah... well—yeah."

She actually laughed now, "Bruce... that's just not how things are between him and me," she finally admitted. "He's a friend," admittedly, not the truth, he was much more than that. "Besides, I think that's an emotion I'm not even capable of."

There was a profound look of sadness on Bruce's face and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it, even when he asked his next question, "So you've never been in love? Had someone love you?"

"Love is for children, remember?" she reminded him, "I was never a child."

He just looked a little defeated with that, "That's...sort of a depressing viewpoint."

"Yeah..." she agreed with a shrug. She was never more glad to be just twelve blocks away from the Avenger's tower. She didn't bring up his love life, she knew better than that. Elizabeth Ross was a chapter of the scientist's life that she knew he had run from and desperately tried not to look back. He hadn't meant any harm in his prying into her relationships, so she didn't deem it necessary to go and hurt him like that. Besides, she had done enough to him already through the last month. "So—what movies are they playing next week?"

Bruce seemed relieved at the mercy of a subject change and he offered another somewhat impish smile, "Just remember... you already agreed."

 _Crap..._ "Bruce... did you lie to me about what was playing?"

He grinned now and she rolled her eyes a little just before he answered, "Technically, I just said they were doing this again next week. You know—a mini-movie marathon."

She couldn't help but chuckle, "So what's playing?" But she realized he didn't need to answer, "Oh—that's low, Banner."

"Let it go, Natasha..."

She snickered at that and shook her head, "I might just hate you."

"I'm just kidding, it's classic movies," he assured her with a laugh.

She shot him an amused glare, but he _was_ laughing, so it was hard to hold it against him. "Just this once, Bruce... you win," she offered up with a smirk and it was good to hear him laugh again since he had seemed pretty out of it earlier.

The moment didn't last long, and she didn't quite understand what happened. Suddenly she found it difficult to draw in oxygen and she was on her back on the ground and people were _screaming_ all around them. She didn't understand why, not at first. But there was something warm and sticky on her face and when she grazed it with her fingertips and brought her hand in front of her face, she saw red. Then she saw the reason she couldn't breathe.

"Bruce..." she breathed out. He was half on top of her, unmoving. She must have hit the ground hard because her back felt the sting of pins and needles and she grunted as she lifted herself and Bruce into a sitting position. And then she saw it...the small red and bloody hole right in the center of his forehead and suddenly the air was sucked right back out from her lungs. Natasha's breaths came out shaky and uneven as she rolled him onto his back on the concrete. The blood wasn't her blood, it was Bruce's. "No...that—that can't happen..." It was sheer disbelief that had her place her hand over the tiny wound over his forehead, as though that might just fix everything.

None of it would have happened if she hadn't dragged him out of the damned tower to begin with. She dragged her eyes around the crowd gathered, searching aimlessly. It had to be from far away, she never heard a gunshot. She _never_ heard it. But she did see something... green.

Bruce's skin had begun to turn a distinct shade of green and she _knew_ what that meant. "Crap... crap... crap..." she muttered quickly. She looked around at all the people that were currently gathered and pointing at them, apparently, they recognized Bruce and herself _now_. "RUN!" she growled out at them. "Go! Go!"

It seemed to be enough, they must have realized what was about to happen, because they people screamed again and _ran_ in every direction. She yanked her phone from her pocket and dialed.

"Romanoff, did you miss me?"

"Code green!" she growled out into the phone.

And there was no hesitation, "Where?"

"Twelve blocks north, 13th street," she informed him quickly. The problem was, she forgot one small detail during the midst of what was happening, at least until the noise beside her served as a reminder. She turned her head in time to hear the _growl_ to see him writhe and stand and _grow_. And his arm swung out in every direction. Once again, she felt the air _whoosh_ from her lungs and the pain slammed through her back as she hit the brick wall of the building nearby.

It took over a minute to get her lungs working properly again as she rolled to her hands and knees and she made a side note to _never_ stand near Bruce mid-transformation. She didn't quite make it to her feet, instead she fell back on her rear and put her back to the wall to try and catch her breath a little further. That accidental smack was nearly as potent as the time he had smacked her into the wall on the Helicarrier, and still equally as unpleasant. Natasha wasn't quite sure what to do when he turned towards her and she had a brief expectation to see his fist rise with lethal intention.

It didn't happen, however, he did snarl and spit the bullet directly at her feet. "Whoa... okay..." she whispered with a rasp to her voice. "It's okay, Big Guy... right?"

It wasn't. He was _pissed_. The Hulk ripped out a fire hydrant and threw it clear through the window just next to her head. She covered her head with her arms as the shards of glass rained down along with the never ending flow of water shooting through the air. That was it though, nothing else flew at her and she dared to put her arms down and open her eyes in time to see him stomping down the street, feral growls issued to anyone in his path. Bruce would completely lose himself if this got out of hand and she couldn't think of any other way to get his attention.

So she pulled out her gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

The Hulk _froze_ as the bullet hit his back uselessly and then he turned, slowly, and stared at her. "Oh boy..." On second thought, Bruce might be more pissed off at her for that. The noise from him wasn't just feral, it was down right guttural and terrifying. Scrambling to her feet took far more effort then it should have and she took off down the sidewalk and made her best attempts to ignore the tremors of the ground as he followed after her. _Not good, not good..._

It was yet another painful reminder of her trying to escape from the Winter Soldier as she waved people out of the way. It was another reminder that running usually wound up badly for her. That revelation came a moment to late and she didn't feel a tremor for about thirty seconds; until the Hulk jumped down right in front of her. The gasp the flew from her lips escaped involunarily as she fell backwards once more.

This was it, the end of the line. Natasha didn't have it in her to watch, so she closed her eyes and pathetically shielded her face with her hand.

It was unending silence for what felt like forever before she realized that nothing happened. Even so, it took her equally as long to find the courage to open her eyes. When she did, it wasn't what she expected. The Hulk just stood there, enraged eyes locked onto her hand and his own outreached towards it to mimic it. Her mouth felt dry and she couldn't get any words out, and she remembered how badly this had gone the first time she had grazed his fingertips with her own, so she didn't dare take that move again. "Hey Big Guy..." she offered up again in greeting.

He didn't seem all that pleased with her words and he snarled. She knew she flinched, she must have, because those angry eyes softened just slightly. _What the hell did I say to Bruce on Stark's jet?_ It had calmed Bruce down when he was in agony... maybe it would work for The Hulk too. "Sun's getting' real low..." she offered out in a tentative voice, and she winced, because she remembered she had spoken it in Russian to the scientist.

It seemed to have _some_ effect, because he stood there in silence, though his face still held a scowl for the moment. Maybe she just needed to let him make the next move...

Natasha supposed it was as bad a plan as any other she had come up with in her life, so as slowly as she could, she shifted her hand under his with her palm up. He regarded her hand with an unusual uncertainty for the usually angry beast before he glanced back at her face. She wasn't sure if he was debating between Hulk-slapping her or eating her for lunch, but he didn't look like he was in an agreeable mood either way. It felt like _ages,_ then he seemed to come to a decision, and he rested his hand over top of hers, the top of his hand landed softly in her palm.

She barely managed not to shudder out a breath of relief and she took a deep breath instead. She left her hand where it was for a moment before she slowly moved it so that her hand rested on his wrist. Slowly and cautiously, she trailed her fingers across the giant hand until they reached his fingertips, but she never once took her eyes of the Big Guy's face. He _almost_ looked relaxed, or about as relaxed as the beast could manage to look when he was forever trapped with having a brooding expression.

Then... _not_ so relaxed.

The Hulk grabbed his head, stumbling backwards and groaning and growling. Now she really was breathing shakily as she watched him fight _whatever_ the hell was going on. Words escaped her completely when he started _shrinking_.

She couldn't even acknowledge the fact that Tony had just slammed down on the ground beside her decked out in full Iron Man armor.

"You know—I'm realizing that you two together, you're a dangerous mix," he mentioned nonchalantly. "I'm still sleeping on the couch from the last time all three of us were in the same spot and now we're Hulking out in the streets." Then he shrugged, "Did you... wait—did you _de-Hulk_ him?"

"I—I think so..." she mumbled out.

Natasha watched as Tony angled his head to look at her, then he looked back to the Hulk before he immediately looked back at her. "Holy shit—Natasha... you're bleeding."

She smacked his metal hand away as he reached for her head, "Not mine...or—I don't think it is," she admitted. "It's Bruce's... somebody _shot_ him..."

"Where's the shooter?" he asked quickly.

She hated to admit that she didn't know, but she had no choice, "Never saw him—I...I never saw." She shook her head slightly as Bruce writhed on the ground, slowly losing the green tinge on his skin as he turned pale and sweaty. "He just—he was _dead_... right through—" she whispered and pointed her her forehead with a bloodied fingertip. "He was dead... and then he was The Hulk and—the Big Guy _literally_ spit the bullet out..."

There was clapping.

There was cheering.

And Natasha really couldn't handle that.

"Natasha..."

Tony's worried voice was all she remembered. Then...

Darkness.

* * *

 **Oh boy guys. Be glad, I was gonna leave it with an actual cliffhanger where you didn't know what happened when the Hulk went to level Natasha with a Hulk-slap :P but I thought that was just TOO cruel. So... there you go.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note** : As always, you guys are the best. HuggaHulk owes many a huggles. Can you believe we're already at Chapter 10? Yeesh.

A little longer than usual to get this chapter out, my bad. I kept starting this chapter over and over. Then my cat erased it. Evil pussycat. Also worked two doubles... ugh.

Thanks **Black' Victor Cachat** for getting the ball rolling on this update! **:)**

 **Chapter 10** :

Gunshots and knives and feral growls followed her everywhere she ran. Through the engine room of the Helicarrier, through the streets of New York, and even through the vacant and darkened halls of Red Room. Looking over her shoulder was a mistake, a huge mistake, when she saw what followed her. All she could do was stop and freeze when she saw the monstrosity behind her. It wasn't what she expected to see, it shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. It wasn't a raging green beast, it wasn't the Winter Soldier, or Niko, or any other number of things that plagued her.

It was her. She was left to stare at her own face, the monster inside of her, and it looked no different from what she saw in the mirror. No demonic features, no fangs, no claws or red eyes; The monster was just _her_ , plain and simple, just Natasha Romanoff. She didn't have the will to run from that, to run from herself, not this time. The monster Natasha sauntered forward with hollow eyes and a smile that reeked of corruption and self-loathing. The blade in her hand practically danced as it twirled in her fingertips with grace.

Even when it slashed across her neck.

When Natasha woke up, she didn't just open her eyes, she jolted up and clutched the blanket that was covering her in her fists. Somehow, that nightmare was worse than any other, as though the monster inside was willing to destroy whatever good might actually be inside her to break out. She didn't even realize she wasn't alone until large yet gentle hands came to rest on her shoulders. The last thing that she expected to see was a very concerned looking Steve Rogers hovering over her and she had to blink a few times to clear her vision, double check his face and sure enough, it was _still_ Steve there. It also, however, didn't change the fact that she felt like she got hit by a battering ram. She wasn't even sure if she had really de-Hulked Bruce or not, or if that was just another really screwed up dream.

"Relax, Nat..." came his always soothing voice. She could only think to nod to that in response and she closed her eyes for a second. "Sorry it took so long to show up, I sort of—broke my phone. Touch screens don't agree with me..."

She let that go. "I feel...weird," and Steve seemed somewhat surprised by her admittance, hell, so was she. She really did though, her mouth felt like cotton was shoved inside it, her head was _swimming_ with unfinished thoughts, and she was so damned tired.

"Somebody shot you with a tranq," and that certainly explained _a lot_ , including the unusual nightmare. It was like he had read her mind when he spoke again because he was answering questions that she couldn't coherently form from her mouth, "Stark's been going nuts over it all. He actually convinced anyone there to give him any videos they took... Jarvis and him haven't found much yet."

Again, before she could say something, he was reading her thoughts again and Steve disappeared for a moment before coming back and putting the glass of water in her hand. She raised an eyebrow up, though she wasn't sure it came out with it's usual effect, then she shrugged, "Thanks..."

She sipped at the water and listened as he started answering _more_ of her unasked questions, "We still don't know which of you was actually the target, maybe both, but we'll find something," he assured her, "We always do."

It probably should have made her smile to hear that from him, but she just didn't have it in her, not this time. "I should have noticed...something," she finally added.

"You told Stark you didn't hear the shot," Steve pointed out before he added to it, "And he uh—he found the bullet you said the Hulk spit out, it was a .308."

"A sniper?" she questioned as she rubbed at her temples after she set the water aside. "Doesn't make sense... what idiot _shoots_ a guy who turns into the Hulk? Unless—" she paused with that and rubbed at her eyes this time, "Unless it was supposed to be me." She scrunched her nose up now, "Which makes less sense... now that I think about it," she admitted with a sigh. "Because why tranq me and not just kill me?"

"You think the tranq was supposed to be for the Big Guy?" Steve questioned.

She shrugged at that, though it did sound ridiculous, "I sincerely doubt that would work, but who knows what other people think. I suppose it's possible we had the world's dumbest assassin, but that's even less plausible, I would have noticed a dumb assassin so this person had the be at least _slightly_ better than me..." Now she paused in thought, "Is Bruce okay?"

If Steve was surprised by her usage of the scientist's first name, he was doing a damned good job of keeping it hidden. "He's still out cold," and her face must have given away her disbelief because he continued, "Stark thinks it was the uh—speed of the Hulkout and de-Hulking."

She merely nodded in acceptance of that answer, "I should have noticed something..."

Then she watched as Steve picked up a dart from the little end table by her bed, "Nobody can see every single threat, Natasha," he informed her. She didn't disagree out loud, but she did in her head. She was trained to see _all_ potential threats, and maybe she had been a little out of sorts lately, but that didn't constitute her failure. She watched him twirl the dart in his fingers and then hold it out to her, "Witnesses say this hit the back of your neck just before the shot hit Bruce." She frowned at that and he continued, "I'd guess it was adrenaline that even kept you going as long as you did."

"A dart?" she muttered out as she took it from his hands. She studied it in morbid curiosity before she groaned, "I know who uses these..."

That seemed to get his attention and Natasha sighed as she tossed it back onto the end table, "This wasn't about Bruce, it was about me," she explained. "That's Niko Constantin's handiwork," and it also made for twice now that he had gotten the better of her in as many situations.

" _Perhaps you have been astray for too long. You are losing your touch..."_

"Strucker was right...I got too comfortable, with SHIELD, Barton, Fury, the Avengers..." she leaned back against the headboard. "And then it all fell apart, just like it always does," and she could see Steve's worried eyes trying to understand that, so she explained, "Too many parties want me dead, and people like Bruce get dragged into the crossfire, that can't happen again."

But Steve was just smiling a little at her and it took all her willpower not to smack it off him. "You went out with Doctor Banner."

That came completely out of left fiend and... did he just _tease_ her? "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying-"

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Don't."

"I'm just saying," he repeated, the teasing tone still there, "You haven't relaxed much since SHIELD fell, it's nice."

Natasha groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. "It was an apology, not a _date_ , Rogers," she grumbled into the pillow. She squinted into the pillow before she removed it and shot him with her best glare, "Is this a revenge joke for all those dates I tried to set up for you?"

"No idea what you're talking about," Steve insisted with a grin and then he was giving her that knowing look, "And you're deflecting."

"Mmmm," again, she didn't disagree. "I let my guard down once in the last few months. It got me a tranq and Bruce a bullet in the head."

"Natasha..."

She shook her head and swung her feet over the side of the bed as she stood up. She ignored Steve's averted gaze as she dug through her duffle bag and yanked out black yoga pants and a sports bra and proceeded to change into them, "I need to work this out."

"With what, the punching bag?"

"Or you."

She glanced over and watched Steve give her a strange look before he seemed to catch her meaning, "You want to spar? Right now?"

"Obviously."

Natasha rolled her eyes when he regarded her as though she had just slipped beyond the mental scope, "You just woke up from sixteen hours of being under a tranquilizer that could take down a small bear, not to mention your ribs are bruised, the knife wound in your leg which..." he paused for a moment, "You're not hiding your limp well, by the way, so—no."

"Punching bag it is, then," she stated before she stepped passed him.

* * *

Bruce hoped it was all some horrible and messed up dream like usual, but when he opened his eyes and saw Tony fiddle with what the man had deemed the 'StarkPad', he figured out pretty quickly that wasn't the case. "That happened..." and of course it had, otherwise he would have remembered fully and not just bits and pieces.

"Oh, it certainly did," came Tony's reply as his eyes glanced over the top of the StarkPad. His head was pounding, he was sweaty, and he wasn't sure he could handle his friend's witty commentary right now.

"How many people got hurt?"

"None," came the unexpected answer, "A window did suffer the onslaught of a fire hydrant and there might be a few new potholes in the streets, but I'll foot the bill on that."

Bruce could only release a breath of relief at that before he remembered a certain redhead shielding her face on the sidewalk, "Natasha?"

He watched Tony place the StarkPad down on an end table, "Red is off brooding in my training center and blaming herself."

"But—her face... it was covered in blood..." he insisted as he shook his head at the image of her panic-stricken face, painted crimson as she stared up at him.

Tony waved him off nonchalantly, "Your blood, not hers."

That was somewhat of a relief, but more than that bothered him, "What exactly happened, Tony?" he finally dared to ask. "Why would she think it's her fault?"

He could see Tony debate that before the other man picked up the StarkPad, hit a few buttons, and then handed it over to him, "Someone shot you, you can see the aftermath for yourself," he finally stated. Bruce waited for the YouTube video to start and stared at the views, "Yeah—you two are sort of the new YouTube sensation. Beauty tames the Beast, could have used a catchier title in my opinion, but it does have almost a million hits already, so I suppose it was effective."

Bruce ignored that and watched the cell phone video. It was all eerily silent with a few hushed whispers and then he heard _himself_ and that was definitely not good. He rubbed at this eyes when he saw Natasha still _too_ close and then most people took off screaming as she ushered them away. Sure enough, his fear was brought to life as he sent her careening into the brick wall. He watched the rest of it in silence but it was the end of it that had him stunned, the memory he had chalked up to his imagination.

"Impressive, right?" came Tony's interruption to his thoughts. "I mean—that's twice now that Big Green there has gone and de-hulked for our resident assassin," he mentioned casually. "Think he might have a little Hulk-crush impulse with her, you know, as opposed to Hulk-Smash."

"That's hilarious..." Bruce mumbled out as he replayed it. It wasn't a crush, that much was certain, but he had a feeling that there was _something_ that made the Other Guy not want to swat Natasha like a fly. It was probably something akin to whatever reasoning she had for stepping in with the Hulk that first time in the containment cell, or when she sat outside it and talked to him, "They understand each other..." He saw Tony stare at him incredulously and he ignored it as he played it a third and then a fourth time, "I still don't get how this is Natasha's fault."

"She said it was that Constantin character," his friend explained, "This was about her."

Bruce paused the screen on the fifth replay and tossed it into Tony's lap, "Then explain that."

He watched as Tony picked it up and stared at it, "What am I looking at?"

"I believe Doctor Banner is referring to this, sir," came Jarvis' voice. Bruce watched the screen appear in front of them both, the enlarged picture of what was on the StarkPad. The video started and they both watched as General Thaddeus 'Thunderbolt' Ross stepped out of a doorway to watch, but the video lost him as it moved to follow the Hulk and Natasha and the General never reappeared.

Bruce shook his head at that and dragged himself out of the bed. His legs were still shaky, his body still felt exhausted and he wanted to throw up a little, but he pushed it all down, "It might have had to do with her on Constantin's end, but not on my end..."

Tony looked a little unnerved and he couldn't help but wonder if it was because the billionaire hadn't seen it himself, or just at the thought that an enemy of The Hulk and Black Widow had just attempted a joint assault. "Don't suppose that could have been a coincidence?" his friend offered lamely. "Yeah, didn't think so," he muttered. "But I can't imagine Ross would think that shooting you in the head would actually take you out."

"Probably not," Bruce agreed. "I imagine he was trying to show everyone The Hulk, the _real_ Hulk, not Battle of New York Hulk..."

Tony scoffed a little at that, "Well, that didn't turn out so well for him."

"It would have," Bruce disagreed, "Natasha calming down the Hulk was an unexpected variable for him..."

"Well, that and the fact that she was even on her feet to do that," Tony mentioned. "She took a tranq dart just before you went down," he explained and Bruce could only stare at him. "She should've been half-way to la-la land before you ever Hulked out. Doc I brought in says adrenaline kicked it to the backburner for those few minutes, but the second the adrenaline was gone, she was out like a light and—what the hell are you doing?"

He glanced back at Tony as he pulled a bag from out of the closet and hauled it over his shoulder, "Leaving."

Tony gave him something akin to a stink-eye, "Why?"

"The last time Ross went and involved himself in my life, I broke Harlem, in case you forgot."

"This wasn't another Harlem."

Bruce sighed at that, "It would have been."

"Would have, being the key words," Tony reminded him, "But it wasn't, Romanoff had it handled."

His friend was really just serving to anger him, which was actually a first time for the two of them, "So... what? We should sit and pray that any time the Other Guy makes a breakout that Natasha can calm him down? One time doesn't make her the Hulk whisperer."

"Twice."

"Once," Bruce disagreed again.

Tony's eyes rolled in response, "So that HYDRA facility in Russia doesn't count?" he questioned. "Because as I recall, he de-hulked there too, because of Romanoff."

"Different circumstances."

"This really what you want to do?" Tony questioned. "Take off because things got a little dicey?"

Bruce shook his head, "Look—just... you want to give me a lift, or should I go my own way?"

He could see his friend debate the options in his head, clearly stuck on the line of which he should choose, "You sure about this?" When he nodded, Tony seemed to make his decision, "Jarvis, fire up the jet."

"Of course, sir."

"We'll make a five minute detour to keep you busy while I go inform Pepper, you know she gets bent out of shape when I just go jettisoning off without warning," Tony mentioned to him as they got on the elevator. "By the way, while you're gone, I'll work on the pants issue."

"Pants issue?" Bruce was afraid to know.

"Much as I love your pasty white ass, Bruce—and I do, I love it, truly," his friend mock-shielded his face, "Don't smash me for calling it pasty." It was all he could do not to smile at him for being ridiculous, per usual. "But the Superpants were only good for one go, we need something more lasting."

"You could always gamma radiate them, worked on me," Bruce deadpanned.

Tony didn't seem to think the joke was such a bad idea, "That could—heeeey, I like it! You grow, you shrink, and I'm not talking about baby Banner there."

He _never_ should have made the joke, "You _can't_ be serious, I was joking."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," Tony dismissed him, then pushed him out the door to the elevator when it opened. "I'll come back and get you in a few minutes, don't take off on your only friend, I'll be sad and there might be a tear, possibly two." The doors closed before he could make a retort.

It was _not_ where he thought he would wind up. Bruce stared at Natasha inside the rather large training area, the only one besides now himself, who was currently there. Black yoga pants, a black sports bra—and combat boots. _Really?_ It probably shouldn't have surprised him. Her attacks on the punching bags lacked her usual grace and finesse when she would actually fight and he wondered if there was a reason for it.

"I take it you're leaving."

Her voice rang out even though she never stopped attacking the punching bag and if was anyone besides her, he would wonder how she not only knew he was there, but knew that he was taking off. "Uh... yeah..." And Bruce could see the outline of the bandage on her thigh, the bandage that went along her spine, the large and newly formed splotch of blues and purples on her back.

"Are we friends?" came her unexpected question. He wasn't sure how to take that when she asked it in a way that held no emotion, then he watched as she turned from the punching bag and stepped towards him. To be frank, he wasn't sure either, even if she had made the friendship quote to him from Casablanca. With Natasha, it wasn't exactly easy to know if she was kidding about certain things. "Because...I'm not exactly an expert on the whole friendship thing, so—you can correct me, if I'm wrong," she offered, "And I'll just let you leave—since not being friends would probably make this next conversation a little awkward and useless."

It was hard to know what to say to that, or how to even comprehend what an appropriate answer might be, not when she was watching him with doubtful eyes. "We're friends..." he finally offered up hesitantly.

At least she gave him a brief smile at that, "You don't sound so sure..." Then she shrugged and seemed to accept his answer for what it was, "Then—as your friend, I'm asking you to stay."

"No, I—I lost control," he muttered out as he shook his head.

"Don't do that," she warned softly and he _almost_ wanted to listen to her warning. "It wasn't your fault, Bruce. And nobody was hurt, or killed—"

" _You_ got hurt!"

"I'm _fine_ ," she insisted.

Bruce didn't entirely agree, even if she was standing right in front of him. "I almost killed you, again..."

Natasha reached for his hand but he shuffled away quickly enough to avoid the contact, "Bruce... this wasn't your fault. It was—it was mine..." He watched her hand hang there awkwardly for a moment before she retracted it back to her side, "This was about me—"

"It wasn't," he disagreed as he heaved out a haggard sigh. "At least...not just about you," he finally mentioned. "Ross showed up in the middle of it all," he explained and he imagined he didn't need to say anything else because she knew Ross from that hearing in DC.

She shook her head at that and turned, lodging a knife into a practice dummy with ease. "Still my fault," she tacked on as she stepped away to go and retrieve the knife. She plucked the knife out of the dummy and then picked up several other throwing knives before she came back towards him, "I let my guard down and I shouldn't have," she stated. _Whack_. The first knife met the practice dummy swiftly. "So you didn't almost kill me, Bruce," she added and then flung another knife. _Whack_. "That incident was on me," another knife, another _whack_.

"You got flung into a building, in case you forgot..." he reminded her and she turned her head towards him and scoffed before she threw the last knife on her person without looking at the target.

 _Whack._ That one was more violent then the others and he was actually sort of impressed that she did that without looking. "That wasn't your fault, or the Big Guy's," she assured him. "That was on me, too," she rolled her shoulders and he grimaced a little at the little cracks that he heard from them. "You can't control what happens in the middle of becoming him," she said next and he _supposed_ that was true, but it didn't make him feel any better. "I was too close, that was my fault, not yours. The Big Guy might've been a little pissed, but I don't think he intended to hurt me, not once."

"Really?" He didn't believe that for a second. "The Other Guy wants to hurt pretty much anybody."

"That's not true," she disagreed and Natasha was giving him berated look that he wasn't sure what to do with. "He's not so bad," she offered up with a small shrug. "You should stay, Bruce," she finally told him again. "You've been working with Stark to try and get more control, but it hasn't worked, right?" He gave a small nod to that. "So let me," she proposed and he stared at her with his lips parted slightly in stunned disbelief. "Let me try to work with him, try to give you some of that control you want," she suggested next. "Let me help you, help him...that way you don't have to sit around with a bag packed and ready for take off every time something goes wrong."

Bruce frowned at her idea, not because it was bad, but because she was right. She was the _only_ person his angry other half seemed prone to not break in half since Betty, even so, it didn't change the fact that there were no guarantees it would work. "I'd rather keep the bags packed."

Natasha gave him a pointed look and narrowed her eyes, "Then keep them packed, but let me help."

"No."

"Bruce—"

"I said no, Natasha," he told her more emphatically.

She inclined her head slightly before she stepped away from him and he wrongfully thought she was conceding to his answer when she spoke again, "I get that you don't trust me, I wouldn't either, but if you really want some semblance of control over the Other Guy..." she glanced back at him as she pulled the tape off her hands, "You don't have to trust me, just let me help—as a friend."

"You're trying to manipulate me into this—it's not going to work, Natasha," Bruce assured her with a shake of his head. He glanced back at the elevator, but still no Tony.

"That's what you think this is, a manipulation?" she huffed out a small and sardonic laugh then Natasha tossed the tape on the floor and chewed on her lower lip for a moment. He watched her eyes shift to the now opening elevator doors behind him before she turned her back on him, "So...not really friends then. Enjoy your trip, Doctor Banner."

Her comment left him a little a little numb and he stepped silently into the elevator where Tony awaited him.

"You know, there is a remote possibility that she actually just wanted to be your friend and help," came Tony's offhanded comment.

Bruce figured it was obvious he had probably thoroughly messed up when Tony Stark was chastising him.

* * *

Two weeks.

Natasha spent the following two weeks working with Tony to try and get a location on either Ross or Niko, without any luck. Niko spent the last decade with the KGB and any other interested parties believing he was dead, including herself. The man knew how to hide and clearly he was extending his off-grid veil to cover Ross, as well. Even Steve was attempting to keep an eye out for anything while he searched for his friend with Sam Wilson. "So, we can't find HYDRA or Strucker, we can't find Ross, and we can't find Constantin," she stated as she took a seat at Bruce's desk in the lab. She leaned back and relaxed her hands behind her head as she glanced over at Tony, "Ever feel like the bad guys are winning?"

"All the time," Tony replied with a shrug. "Even when we win, feels like we lose."

"Yeah..." she hummed in agreement as she closed her eyes. "Ironic, really... Steve goes into the ice for seventy odd years, comes back, and it turns out we're still fighting the same enemy he died to protect the world from," Natasha mumbled out. "The same enemy that I worked for, thinking that I could be anything other than what I am," she breathed out with a sigh. "And you—well, you pretty much get a near-death experience on a yearly basis," she quipped and watched the billionaire smirk at the comment.

"I'd like to note that the last incident was mostly Pepper," he tacked on.

"Mmm... but your near-death was closely intertwined."

"Touche," he agreed with a snicker. "That woman singed my ass hairs for a month before we started working out the kinks."

She threw him a dirty look and rolled her eyes, "Let's _not_ talk about your ass hairs, Stark." She knew he preferred levity over actually talking about the fact that all these things actually affected him. Truthfully, she didn't blame him. Talking made it hurt more, it made it real.

"Fine, fine," he agreed. "Let's switch to Banner's pasty ass then, I've been working on the Gamma Pants."

"Gamma Pants?" She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Tony nodded, "Alright, it's brilliant really. I mean, nuke a pair of pants with gamma radiation and they should, in theory, grow and shrink with Banner."

Natasha groaned as she rubbed her eyes, "You want to play with gamma radiation in an effort to keep pants on Bruce after he transforms back from the Hulk?"

" _You_ haven't had to see that man's pasty ass after each Hulk-out," he mentioned and she _supposed_ that was true. "Besides, eventually we'll get his angrier not-so-better half under a bit more control and we can use his help when we get a handle on HYDRA, and the colossal amount of issues we've recently added to our threat list."

"I'm sure his pasty ass isn't that bad, Stark." She watched his face turn to her as he guffawed and she raised an eyebrow up at him, "Something to say?"

"Well, I could _not_ fix the pants problem, if you'd prefer to see the said pasty bottom for yourself," Tony offered and she felt the corners of her lips twitch into a smirk.

She flung the pen across the lab and hit him square in the temple, "Just fix the pants."

Natasha was thankful for her reflexes when the man returned fire with a pair of safety goggles and she snatched them out of the air with one hand.

"Former spy and assassin turned lab assistant," Tony informed her as he stood and handed her a lab coat. "I could use a little help, and my science bro seems to still be brooding in poverty."

She chuckled at that and reluctantly pulled on the lab coat, there wasn't anything better to do anyways, so she might as well. "I'll help you, but if I turn green and _actually_ become a cross between the exorcist and a she-Hulk, I want you to know that you're the first one I'll tear limb from limb."

"Duly noted, Romanoff," Tony agreed with a grin.

* * *

 **Anywho, hope this chapter wasn't too boring for you! But it can't all be action, that just doesn't lead to a very good romance :P**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note** : Okay, you guys were too funny in your reviews with the last chapter. Including one _very_ unflattering idea of something to put up Ross' rump. XD

For **Kelly of the midnight dawn** , and the spiky iron (that which shall not be named) that she wants shoved up Ross' arse.

 **Chapter 11** :

 _Natasha wasn't entirely sure what to make of the following two weeks since herself and Tony started their work on what the billionaire had deemed 'The Great Pants Debacle'. Bruce had taken himself back to India about a month prior and though he and Tony frequently chatted back and forth on video calls, she never once made her presence known during the calls, and Tony never gave her away. This was another of those times and although she knew she wasn't quite out of the view of the video call, she didn't bother to hide herself or acknowledge their conversation, she simply continued to review Tony's latest notes._

 _She barely snuffed her chuckle when Bruce seemed to notice her presence in the background and Tony's immediate comment was, "Oh, about that—I'm cheating on you. I lost my science bro, so... I adopted a science sis. She's surprisingly functional and useful in the lab, even without knives and guns."_

 _She rolled her eyes even though Tony's robot Dum-E was the only one in front of her to see it, then the little robot whirred it's clamp around and she shot it a bemused glare. It was weird to admit she actually enjoyed the strange little contraption wearing a 'dunce' cap, but it wasn't as dumb as Tony led everyone to believe, it was actually pretty brilliant. Her eyes shifted as she watched Dum-E pick up her pen and she tried to school her expression when the robot's clamp sent it careening through the air and it hit the back of Tony's head._

 _Natasha wasn't successful, because she snickered the moment Tony turned and both herself and Dum-E received berated looks. She was still chuckling, Dum-E's clamp was whirring in circles with what she took as amusement, and Bruce's face actually looked some mix between shocked and entertained on the video screen._

" _You need to come back," Tony pleaded as he turned back to Bruce. "She's beginning a coup. My most loyal invention is joining the dark side!" It was probably a horrible moment to be taking a bite of a chocolate chip cookie and she knew it the moment the billionaire heard the soft crunch, "And the dark side has cookies!"_

That had been a week ago and now she sat in the theater room and stared down at the ridiculous postcard in her hands. It didn't have anything written on the back besides her name, not even the sender, though she knew who it came from. She flipped it back to look at the front and smirked a little at the image of a more beautiful part of India, all it read going diagonally across was ' _wish you were here_ '. It was hard to decide if that was supposed to be some form of an apology for before he left, or a dorky little joke, or if he actually wanted her to go there.

Natasha imagined it was more likely to be one of the first two rather than the latter but she didn't have a chance to put any further stock into the thought. She shifted her gaze behind her at the sound of footsteps and she watched for several moments until Thor appeared in the doorway. _Not_ who she expected to see.

"Lady Natasha!" Thor boomed with a grin, "How wondrous to see you again!"

It was strange to see the demigod wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt and jeans that fit a little _too_ snugly and she snickered a little before she spoke, "Hello, Thor. Did Jane help you do the shopping?"

"Indeed, she insists that Midguardian clothing is supposed to be this constricting, but I do not understand how you do combat so fluidly in it, Lady Natasha." Thor had his arms outstretched as he studied his own clothing and it was near impossible _not_ to grin at him.

"Well—I typically try not to do my combat in skinny jeans," she informed him with a chuckle, "But you learn to adjust for it when the occasion calls for it."

He seemed to concede to that ideal before he spoke again, "Is that a postcard?" and at her nod he continued his thoughts, "Jane often gets me them when she travels to different places. I rather like the images portrayed on them." Natasha assumed this was his way of saying he wanted to see it and she stood up and handed it to him. It wasn't as though it would give away some vital personal information to him, so she didn't see the harm as he took it daintily in his hands and studied it. "Odd, Jane typically writes me a message on the back, how come yours does not have one?"

She honestly hadn't thought of that when she let Thor see the postcard and she shrugged, "Sometimes words aren't really needed to convey meaning."

"I could not agree more," Thor stated appreciatively before he asked, "So does this card hold a certain meaning?"

That _was_ the question she had basically been asking herself, "I haven't figured it out yet."

There was a strange look over Thor's features and she watched in amusement as he flipped the postcard front to back several times. "How do you know who sent it?" came his perplexed voice. "The sender did not leave their name."

Natasha chuckled as she plucked the postcard from his grasp, "Because I only know one person in India," she answered with a small smile.

"Is that not where Doctor Banner is currently residing?" came Thor's curious question.

"Yes."

Thor's head tilted to the side as he seemed to let that roll through his mind, "I see, well—I have recently learned to make something called the benediction of eggs, are you hungry?"

It took her a beat to translate that in her head, but when she did, she actually released a small laugh at his words. "Eggs Benedict? This I may need to see to believe," she stated as she tucked the postcard into her pocket and followed Thor towards the kitchen. "Jane teach you to cook?"

"Perish the thought," Thor assured her. "Jane's cabinets are filled with potato chips and poptarts."

Natasha grinned at that as she poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen, "These science-y types have no skills in the kitchen, Thor..." she joked.

"I have come to the same conclusion," he agreed as he pulled out a frying pan. "I learned the benediction of eggs from a glorious master of the art of cooking, Martha Stewart, on one of your televisions," and she actually choked on her water for a moment, forced to clear her throat as Thor gave her a gentle pat on the back in an attempt to help, "You should drink that more slowly."

She made no comment as she managed to get the tickle to ease from her throat and she took another sip, though a little more warily this time. "So—you and Jane are managing this whole... intergalactic relationship thing?"

"Indeed, we each have our responsibilities and duties, however, and we are making sure not to shirk in them," he replied and she watched him get to work on cooking. He _did_ seem to know what he was doing, but she supposed if he had any problems she could always help him. "What about you? Are you in a relationship?"

Natasha chuckled at that, "Never saw the point in one."

"Truly?" he questioned as he put two english muffins into the toaster. "I always thought that-"

"That I was with Barton?" It seemed to be the recent trend to bring up lately, after all.

"Not at all, you two have more of a sibling vibe to you."

She smirked at that, "Well, you're the first person to say _that_."

Thor grinned at her, "What I was going to say, was that I always thought that you were quite the independent warrior, but I had not imagined that meant you had sworn off relationships."

She arched an eyebrow up slightly at that. "I haven't 'sworn off' relationships," she told him with a small sigh. "I just-" and how was she supposed to explain this, or better yet, why did she even feel like she _needed_ to explain it? "I guess I just haven't managed to find an interest for such a thing."

"I understand that," Thor assured her, "I felt much the same before I met Jane, but do not deny yourself the pleasure of another just to forsake a meaningful commitment."

Natasha figured somebody had _some_ mercy, because she managed to stop herself from taking a sip of water just before he said that. It took a moment for her to shove aside her disbelief at his comment before she dared to voice her question, "Did you just tell me to get laid?"

Apparently Thor understood the term 'laid', because as she held out two plates to him, he boomed out a laugh as he put the english muffins onto them, "I suppose that I did, Lady Natasha."

She felt her lips twitching into a grin as he topped each english muffin with the canadian bacon, then the cheese, then the eggs, "Thor—if you tell a woman to get laid, you can pretty much stop putting the title of 'lady' in front of their name." She handed one of the plates to him after he turned off the burner of the oven and she opened the cabinet to pluck out paprika. When she sprinkled it over the top of the egg she could see Thor's strange look and scrunched up nose, so she held it up to him with a smirk, "Martha doesn't have all the secrets," she informed him, and when he nodded, she sprinkled it onto his as well.

"You would prefer I not bestow the title of 'Lady' when we speak?"

Natasha moved over to the table with her plate and water and took a seat. "Just Natasha," she insisted as he sat across from her.

He nodded to that as he took a bite of the food and then he looked up at her with widened eyes, "You were right, that dash of flavor you added to it has made it even more delectable."

She barely managed not to smirk at that as she took a bite of her own. She gave it a few polite seconds after she finished chewing before she bothered to reply, "Well, I just added the seasoning. You did all the work, and it's really good." Not to mention that the last time someone cooked her something it became a charred science experiment in the frying pan. Natasha crinkled her brow slightly when her thoughts returned to Bruce and it took her a moment to notice that Thor was giving her yet another odd look.

"Perhaps you should send a postcard back."

Her eyes blinked a few times in confusion before she realized she was sitting with the english muffin about a centimeter from her mouth, so she took another bite before she returned it to the plate. She ignored his suggestion as she changed the topic, "Are you heading back to Asgard?"

"Not yet," Thor informed her. _And did he really eat all that already?_ His Eggs Benedict appeared to have pulled a Houdini act and she could see him eyeing the other half of hers. She picked up the partially eaten first half of her own and then pushed the plate towards him. "Thank you," he acknowledged as he pulled the plate closer. "I am to stay until the scepter is located, not that I am not enjoying myself on Midguard," he assured her before he took a heaving bite of the food. One bite for him was _half_ the english muffin, and no wonder his had been gone so quickly. "I heard of your attempt to look into it," he brought up next and she kept her face neutral in response. "I am sorry for—"

Natasha ended that quickly, "The mission was a failure, there's nothing else to say."

"I see..."

She didn't bother to presume that she had enough of a relationship with the Asgardian to have offended him with her curt reply, but the air around them did take on and awkward and stuffy silence, so it seemed that she was good for something around the tower besides irradiating Bruce's pants. With her inability to chat about prior experiences that irked her, she had hit an all new expert level at burning bridges between herself and her teammates, present company now included. "I'll clean up," she offered as she took the empty plates and tossed the remnants of the food still in her hand into the trash. She could see Thor about to object to her insistence of cleaning up the mess he had made on the stove top and she shrugged it off, "Thanks for breakfast."

He seemed to take that as his cue to leave as he nodded his head, "Very well. You are welcome, La—Natasha."

She turned her head and gave him the barest of smiles at that before she returned her attention to the sink. She made her best attempts not to twitch when she could hear Jarvis reassure Thor in the hallway that she was like that with everyone and not just him. She released a breath of frustration before she scrubbed it away roughly along with the dishes.

* * *

Being gone for a month and a half at least gave Bruce time to put things further into perspective. It wasn't that he didn't want to be Natasha's friend or that he didn't want to trust her, though he had to admit to himself that he didn't, but he also didn't trust himself or the more enraged part of his personality. Her strange faith and connection with The Hulk just put him more at odds with whether or not it would be a good idea to let her work with him. Just because the Big Guy didn't seem prone to smash her to pieces, didn't exactly mean he wouldn't do it inadvertently, much like he already had.

Tedious thoughts like those always seemed to cross his mind when he walked the return trip back from a house call in Bahir, and even more annoying, was the thought of how ridiculous it had been to send the postcard. Bruce hadn't had the niggling voice in his head yet that told him to call, but it did tell him to do something, or anything really. It had been the only thing that seemed to catch his eye when he actually went to the city to restock supplies, so he had bought it, written her name and sent it without a second thought. It was only _after_ that he realized how pathetic it was, and by then, it was far too late.

So when he opened the door to his little shack, he immediately noticed the change in his usual environment, not to mention the unusually pleasant scent that tended to linger with Natasha's presence. It seemed entirely unfair to not only himself, but to her as well, that just the realization she was here made his heart race a little bit faster. When you weren't friends and you didn't entirely trust each other, it seemed like such an absurd reaction to have to someone, though he supposed you didn't need either to feel attraction.

If Bruce had given any indication of the sudden onslaught of unruly thoughts, Natasha seemed keen to ignore them as she sat on the couch with her legs folded beneath her. He placed the bag with his gear down on the table with a tactless _plop_ before he decided to acknowledge her any further, "Well—I guess I can tell Tony you didn't disappear after you hijacked his jet."

The edges of her lips curled into a signature smirk before she gave a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, "I prefer the term 'liberated'," she corrected and he barely managed not to smile at that. "Besides, I only borrowed it, and Jarvis didn't try to stop me."

"You overrode Jarvis' system," he reminded her and that made her smile a little less impish and a little more real. Natasha actually seemed proud of the achievement. "Should I ask why you're here?" his thoughts finally uttered from his mouth. Her expression turned into a lack of one before she held up his postcard.

Now _that_ was embarrassing.

"A little dorky," she informed him.

Bruce was more than a little certain his face had gained a little color, "I didn't actually mean that you should show up..."

The smile she gave him now bore a little more charm and she was unmercifully impossible to read and understand sometimes, "Oh, I know." _Then why...?_ "But Tony keeps asking you to come back, and you keep telling him no," she answered the unfinished question of his mind.

"Given that I'm the one saying no... I'm pretty sure I'm aware of that," and that came out a little more rude than he meant it to.

"He misses you," she offered up lightly and when he frowned Natasha seemed to decide on a different tactic, "You know, typically when a friend asks you to do something, you step up and do it. You're part of his and Steve's whole 'Avengers are family thing'. You're his family."

Bruce scoffed a little at that, "I'm the part of the family they're embarrassed by."

She rolled her eyes a little in response to that before she released an irritable little laugh, "That's not true, you're only embarrassed by yourself. _You_ ran away," she reminded him. It was annoying that she was right. "We had a bad situation, and you ran away," and he opened his mouth to redefine her term of 'bad situation', but she never gave him the chance, "Don't get me wrong, you had reason, and running is sort of your bread and butter... but hiding out here? Avoiding your problems? Not talking to the person who needs and wants you around?" she gave him a coy smile that annoyed him further, because she was being rather hypocritical.

"This is a little like the pot calling the kettle black," he quipped dryly.

If Natasha was offended, he couldn't find a trace of it on her, not even when she replied, "True, but if you do all that, then how are you ever going to get what you want?"

He shuffled his way to the opposite end of the couch before he sank into it, "So—besides the fact that you seem to think you know what I want," he stated, and this time his comment did seem to vex her a little, "You _liberated_ Tony's jet, to lecture me?"

Her annoyance seemed to shift to mischievous again as she twirled the postcard in her fingertips, "Didn't fit on one of these." It broke the ice, at least, because he actually chuckled a little in response. Or at least it had, until she spoke again with a more neutral tone, "And I can leave the tower, if that would help," she offered. "I make you uncomfortable and...I get that. I'm used to it," she added with the smallest smile. "And at least then I don't have to deal with Stark _and_ Thor," she quipped. "The other morning he made _the_ _benediction of eggs_..."

He was momentarily too stunned to respond to her offer to leave the tower, "The _what_?"

Natasha's laugh was tiny but more real than the former ones as she shook her head, "Yeah...he also told me that I needed to get laid."

"Thor wouldn't say that..." he insisted, though to be honest, he wasn't actually sure.

Her eyes actually twinkled a little and it made him think she might not be kidding, "I believe his exact words were that I," she cleared her throat and then her voice took on a heavily accented Asgardian tone that left him in awe, "Should not forsake myself the pleasure of another to forsake a meaningful commitment."

Was she even around Thor long enough to pick up on the way he spoke? Because it did sound an awful lot like him. "Wow he—he really did tell you to get..."

"Well and truly screwed," Natasha finished with a hint of amusement. "Believe me, I was as surprised as you are. He calls me _Lady_ and then tells me to get in a good romp in the sack."

Bruce couldn't help himself, he leaned forward and actually laughed in response to that. It was truly absurd that this woman could infuriate him, annoy him, charm him _and_ humor him all in just one ten minute sitting. The scientist in him found it absolutely mind blowing and curious, something he needed to dissect further and experiment with, and likely to result in never finding an answer to the puzzle that was Natasha Romanoff. He considered her the independent variable, always changing, never staying the same. He would never know what to expect from Natasha and that was intriguing and frustrating.

"Suppose it's not the worst suggestion, probably couldn't hurt any."

As if her comment about his 'dorky' postcard hadn't put color on him before, _that_ pretty much sealed the redness into his cheeks as they burned.

"Of course, some people prefer that it does," she gave no indication she was joking, "Rough can be fun, not my preference, but to each his own."

 _Hotter_.

"Are you that type, Doc?"

"Uh..." and now he was pretty sure he had more color than her hair, so he immediately covered his face with his hands.

There was a sly smile now gracing him with it's presence on her lips and she really did know how to push his buttons, "So, want to come back to the tower? Or should I continue?"

"If you stop, I'll go back..." he agreed with as he shifted uncomfortably.

Then she grinned, "See? Now _that's_ manipulation." _Oh boy._ He didn't doubt that for a second. "And like I said, I'll leave," her voice had lost it's teasing edge and returned back to it's usual neutrality.

All the embarrassment from just seconds before faded immediately and he relinquished his hands back to his lap before he settled his eyes on her. Natasha, however, now seemed compelled to look at the wall and he felt terrible all over again.

"As attractive as I find your rather morose disposition," came her next offhanded quip, "At least Tony makes you smile, and I prefer that, even if you are rather self-deprecating in your humor with him." Bruce had absolutely no idea how to take that. "So it's alright, because I know I still bother you."

It wasn't alright that she seemed to think that his coming back meant she needed to leave and he finally managed to find his voice again, "You do bother me." His admittance didn't seem to affect her any, but his follow-up seemed to surprise her at least a little, "I'm just beginning to think its in a good way." The surprise disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, though she did seem to be at a loss for words, if the parting and then resealing of her lips was any indication of the sort. "I don't want you to leave, or feel you have to," he finally replied. "You seem better when you're in the tower, too..." he tacked on for good measure. Natasha looked a little uncertain about his comment but coherent thoughts left him for a moment, "Did you say you find my morose disposition attractive?"

And there was that ridiculous little smile again, but she pointedly ignored the question. "Alright, so we'll both stay," she agreed, "But I could use a day or two away, is that alright?"

Bruce frowned a little before he understood, "You want to stay here?"

"If you don't mind, I'm afraid Thor won't stop with the benediction of eggs, and I'm sincerely frightened that he might take a Hush Puppy a bit too literal."

The laugh that escaped him now came out free and easy and he leaned back against the couch. "That's horrible..."

"You're laughing now, but it won't be so funny when Thor is boiling puppies on the stove top." It was impossible to take that seriously, even when her tone and humorless expression gave away nothing to say she was being insincere. Then she smiled softly, "See? This is much better than surly and sad." Then she tapped her index finger on her chin in a more playful manner, "Although... you might want to see a shrink, you're laughing about the murder of adorable and defenseless little puppies."

It was probably worse that her comment only served to induce him into another small fit of laughter, but the careless air shifted to something more uptight when the noises of peoples' yells and screams echoed into his shabby little home. Both of them stood and moved toward the window in reaction to it and watched as people ran to their own homes and away from the mercenaries ravaging through the small town. Natasha didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the scene in front of her and he assumed she had seen enough things like this that it was possible she truly wasn't.

That changed in an instant when one of the men grabbed the wrist of a familiar little girl and her expression changed to one that was almost pure hatred. She shoved the door open within seconds, and before he could even think of what to do with her change in demeanor, so all he could do was follow her outside as she strode purposefully and quickly in the direction of the man. The cry of the little girl and the _snap_ of her wrist seemed to be the end all moment and Bruce watched in sheer disbelief as Natasha came up behind the girl's assailant and slid a knife to his jugular.

She whispered something Bruce couldn't understand, but her tone was laced and dripping with venomous intent and it left little to the imagination. The man released the child in an instant and Bruce moved closer and pulled her away as Natasha took the man's arm, wrenched it back and he heard yet another resounding _snap_ , followed by another.

He understood the words of the other men almost instantly, " _Black Widow! Run! Run!"_ And he knew now that these were the same men who had tried to kill him the first time she had come here. Apparently, Natasha had put the fear of God into them after her first visit, because all of them took off into the jeeps they had arrived in. For a moment he thought she might still slit the throat of the man she was holding, but instead she shoved him away with more hate-filled words that he didn't quite understand. He did, however, understand the man begging for forgiveness as he ran towards a jeep that _hadn't_ yet left him behind.

Bruce turned his attention quickly to the wailing eight-year-old at his feet as he knelt down to take her wrist in his hand.

But she would have none of it, it seemed, and instead she only cried louder.

Natasha's intervention was sudden and unexpected as she came over and sat down in the dirt without hesitation, "Krishna..." came her soft voice, and it was an entirely new soft that he had never thought to associate with her before. He watched as her face contorted with discomfort as the little girl buried her face at her waist and wrapped her one good hand around Natasha. The redhead gave a feeble attempt at comfort as she drew a hesitant arm around the child, and if she hadn't already convinced him to go back to the tower earlier, this would have sealed the deal.

It was yet another unseen side of her and he grimaced as she gave solemn and hushed whispers to Krishna about fixing her broken wrist. He took that as a sign as the mother ran over to sit with them as well, so he left to retrieve a splint. Perfect doctoring with casts wasn't something he could do around these parts, but at least he could do something. By the time he returned with the splint and the tape, Natasha was already in the midst of setting the child's wrist and he winced as the little girl cried harder, but Natasha only seemed mildly disturbed.

Bruce chewed on his lower lip a little before he handed her the splint, because she seemed as privy to the setting of bones as he was. She didn't question it or comment as she went to work in a rather precise manner and that niggling voice in his head was telling him this was something they had both done for themselves as children. It was the only way someone could manage such a stoic expression after seeing what happened and dealing with the aftermath. It left yet another pit in his stomach.

When it was finished, Natasha didn't pry the emotional child off that clung to her, she just sat there awkwardly and allowed it. The sinking pit grew larger as her eyes vacantly searched for a wall. She seemed to have deemed it useless as she finally gave up and locked eyes with him and for once he could see beyond the emptiness she hid in them, buried in an ocean of green, was something that wreaked of torment.

He supposed it took one ruined childhood to recognize the tortured fragments that hid behind hollow eyes, but he could see it now. Tony had been right, they _were_ alike, in more ways than he liked. Natasha had simply numbed herself to it in ways he couldn't fathom being able to, that was the point where they differed. Where he had escaped, she clearly never had.

* * *

 _He was eight, reeling and writhing from the pain that seared up his arm like a wild fire. Misshapen and bent at an awkward angle and he held it uselessly to his chest. Bruce was trying to stay hidden behind the cabinets as his mother and father screamed uselessly back and forth at each other._

 _Rebecca was in the midst of a rant, no longer making threats of leaving, but actually taking action to do so. His mother was moving towards him to take him with her, but Brian was having none of it. He grabbed her arm and threw her against the wall, hands mercilessly gripped around her throat._

" _No!" Bruce tried to pry his father off her with one hand, but it was a failure of biblical proportions as he was sent careening into the counter. His head smacked into the corner and blood trickled pathetically down his forehead._

 _He was too dazed to move._

 _Too dazed to do anything more than watch as his father slammed his mother's head repeatedly against the wall._

 _It left cracks in the paint and the wall, changing the corrupted portion of the wall from blue to wet crimson._

 _When she fell to the ground her eyes were still open, never blinking, she never moved. His father disappeared out the front door and he crawled hopelessly to her._

" _Mom..?"_

 _Shaking her didn't help._

" _Mom... wake up."_

 _Asking her to wake up didn't help. The trail of red where she slid down the wall led down to the pool of sticky redness beneath her head._

 _Crying didn't help either, but he did it anyways as he clung to her._

When he woke, he was _still_ clinging, but it was unsettling to realize it wasn't a pillow. It had the warmth of a body and Bruce realized horrifyingly quickly that it was Natasha, who was perched on the edge of his bed and who currently looked more than a little worried. It wasn't until his eyes met hers that he knew why; in her eyes, he saw the verdant and brilliant shade of glowing green from his own. It only served to make his heart race faster and the grumbling rage in the back of his head to grow louder.

"Bruce..." her voice was like silk as it laced through his mind. "It's alright... you're alright," came the next hushed words. And fingertips now tread softly over his back, "The nightmare is over..." she offered next, her tone still smooth but definitely erring on the side of caution.

His heart rate didn't slow down though, not for a moment, and the fury in the back of his mind was growing and discontent to remain buried. "Go..." and his voice was a mixture of pain and anger, a mix of himself and The Hulk who wanted to be released.

"No," she contested with ease, her voice still no louder than a whisper. And he _hated_ her in this moment. It was more enraging to realize that while she had kicked him out when he tried to help her, she would refuse to do the same in the reverse situation. "Look at me, Bruce," she ordered. He hadn't even realized he had looked away, but when he finally met her eyes again they weren't vacant, or empty, or hollow; her eyes were wide, and understanding, and calming. "It's okay..." she reassured him once more.

There was also a brief flicker of something else that came over her expression, something he couldn't quite read. Not until he realized his hand had a vice grip on her forearm and it took effort to pry himself loose of it, horrified by the angry red marks left behind.

"Relax..." she hushed out next, and then the fingertips moved gently across his back again, leaving little trails that felt like cobwebs along his spine. It was disturbing to realize she was actually helping, that Natasha's soothing voice and comforting hands were enough to ease his racing heart, and his eyes remained locked onto hers as she spoke again, "I'll stay right here, I won't leave." He saw the green glow of his own eyes fade within her own.

He was shaking and reeling from the near loss of control, but Natasha did what she said, she stayed. She edged herself further onto the bed and she never broke contact as she rested herself more comfortably against the headboard.

"I promise," she added next. She had him tucked pathetically at her side with his head resting on her lap. One of her hands remained at his back while the other rested softly on his forehead.

"Keep talking..." he finally managed to tell her, though his voice came out dry and hoarse.

Natasha didn't acknowledge the pain in his voice, but she seemed to accept his request, her voice rang out with ease, talking about nothing important, but never stopping unless she was trying to debate what to say next.

He counted an hour had gone by before everything faded into nothingness again, but at least the nightmares never managed to break the barrier that her voice had left behind.

* * *

 **Well, there we go. About time the comfort went in the opposite direction, eh?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note** : Man, you people sure know how to make me swoon! That last chapter seems to have lit a fire under a few bums, so I'm glad I finally gave you _something_ in the way of Brutasha, haha.

I have an over-abundance of **guest** reviewers, and I twitch a lot since there's no reply button. So I suppose I just have to thank all of you here! And an extra head nod to **Commander Zucchini** ** _,_** because your name still slays me, lol. Glad you're enjoying, so thank you, sir-ma'am-sir! Everybody say thank you to the Commander for being the one to bring up the possibility for **Option B**!

 **Chapter 12** :

In truth, Natasha should have made an escape from this situation hours ago, but Bruce was still entangled around her and it seemed wrong to just leave him. She wasn't at all comfortable with the position she was in, but she had promised not to leave and uncomfortable or not, she intended to keep it. There was the barest glint of sunlight beginning to shine into the room and she finally dared to take a good look at the scientist that held onto her. He still looked pale and damaged even as he slumbered somewhat peacefully, it was something that she understood, the ability to sleep dreamless and still be disturbed.

Sometimes the emptiness and darkness of a non-dreams were even less inviting than the nightmares. Terrible things lurked in the black shadows, monsters and evil, grotesque miscreations that the mind hasn't yet fathomed the existence of. If Bruce was anything like her, he would hate himself when he woke up, probably curl into himself and suffer his self-loathing in silence. Worse than that, she would let him because as much as she didn't want to, people like themselves needed that melancholic solitude. If they didn't hate themselves, they wouldn't know what to do any longer, they would be someone someone other than who they were meant to be.

He would probably also hate her again and remember that the fact that she bothered him _wasn't_ such a good thing. It had been such an odd thing to hear from him the the afternoon before, especially after her teasing and manipulative flirtation, and it still sat with her now. Natasha couldn't even decide what had drawn her to make the intrusion into his room last night, there had been some mixture of noises between shuddering breaths and feral groans, and she had looked in just to _see_ that he was alright. The hints of pale green that had covered his skin were her first indication that he wasn't, in fact, anywhere near being alright.

She had stepped in cautiously when failed attempts to rouse him by calling his name at the doorway failed. Bruce had been trapped in some horrible and vivid nightmare and really, every instinct told her that she should run away, but some little fiber left in whatever dark pit of a soul she still had, told her to stay. The fiber had won out and she had inched her way over to the bed. When shaking him had become another useless endeavor, she instead sat down on the edge of the bed and attempted _not_ to cringe when he had rolled over and latched onto her.

It was ridiculous and childish and something no one had ever done before, at least, not to her. People didn't _cling_ to Natasha, and she most certainly wouldn't allow them to do it if they tried. Hell, she didn't even cuddle or whatever else _normal_ people did after sex, so this was as foreign as something could possibly be to her. Bruce's face was pressed into her shoulder, one hand clutching her arm tight enough that she actually felt some semblance of discomfort. It took her several seconds to decide that she couldn't do nothing, that she should try and do something that was supposed to be a comfort.

His old movie binges had been good for something, so she had taken her free arm and trailed it along his back, and said his name one more time. That had roused him awake in an instant and he looked horrified and in agony when he looked at her, that radiated green had overtaken his eyes, and stared up into her own. His warning to go and run, though she had refused, had thrown off warning bells in her survival instinct of fight or flight. Although flight had been alarmingly high on her priority list in the moment, she had shoved it down with tenacious defiance, much to Bruce's rather transparent irritation. She supposed some people would think it was bravery, and many others would think it was reckless, but she considered it proof that she wanted to help. After all, if Clint had been able to see something more in her, she had to be able to do that for someone else. He had seen a chance for good in a drug-induced twenty-year-old assassin for the KGB, so Natasha was determined to try and find that good in someone else.

She had found that, in some sense, she just hadn't expected to find it within Bruce Banner and his monster. It seemed somewhat illogical to find good in an _actual_ monster, or it had, until she realized The Hulk wasn't really so monstrous. Really, her attempts to be helpful had all backfired rather spectacularly. Bruce didn't want help, he didn't want someone to see good in him, and he certainly didn't want her to be the one to sit here and try. He had told Tony that someone like her wasn't good for him to be around, and she was starting to see his point. Bad omens and horrible situations seemed rather keen to follow her around these days and now she found herself double-checking his forehead for a bullet wound. There was nothing, no indication there ever had been, but she could still see it because the image was practically ingrained into her mind.

Natasha couldn't help him, and it was pathetic and idiotic to think that she could. The thing about being broken, is that in order to be fixed, the person doing the fixing can't be missing the same pieces. Her and Bruce were missing the same pieces, and a few very different ones as well. She leaned her head back against the headboard again with a little extra force, grimacing when she realized the noise might have woken up him up. He didn't wake up, but he did shift a little.

What she really wanted to do was to go to sleep and forget all this stupidity, to forget her nonsensical idea that she could save someone as fractured and shattered as herself. He was right not to trust her, right not to want to be her friend, and it left a sort of empty feeling inside her. Clint and Steve had placed themselves into an unbidden friendship with her before she could bat an eye and refuse, and yet, the one time she tried to place herself into that slot with someone else, she couldn't comprehend how she was supposed to do it.

She really was remarkably inadequate at not just being someone that other people could put their blind faith in, but at being a friend. Clint and Steve, that was it. Clint for reasons she would never understand, and Steve because he had some unwavering and foolish notion that good could be found in just about anyone.

Natasha knew better. Good had long ago been snuffed out of her, and in return, she had extinguished it out of many others.

She didn't have any spare parts left to give, not even the semblance of family that Clint had given to her, would she ever be able to give to someone else.

* * *

He hoped it was another dream, and that when he opened his eyes, it wouldn't have really happened. However, Bruce knew before he opened his eyes, that wasn't the case. There was warm bare skin where his head rested and an odd weight on his back and side, so when he opened his eyes, he wasn't sure exactly what to do. His head was precisely where he remembered it being, left to rest atop the bare thighs of Natasha who was clad in rather tight black shorts. He didn't even know how to move, because he realized now that the weight on his back was the aforementioned redhead who had an arm draped over his side and her cheek pressed against where her elbow bent.

His first coherent thought was that she could _not_ be comfortable. She was at such an awkward angle that he couldn't even find it plausible that someone could fall asleep in that position. It didn't last more than a few seconds because her eyes shot open, instantly alert, and he guessed that she sensed the sudden shift in the air. Natasha was a little too good at that, even in sleep. Although her eyes were half-glazed from what he guessed was too little rest, she seemed no less functional than her usual self. In just another second she sat up and let him untangle himself, which he didn't hesitate to do.

By the time he was off of her, she was on her feet and practically a fleeting memory in his mind. If it weren't for the fact that whatever that strangely alluring scent was that she used, still lingered in the air, he might not have believed she had ever even been there to begin with. Honestly, he was a little grateful for her swift retreat, but a little worried by it at the same time. He had expected her to sit there and ask questions, try to dig for information and get him to talk, it was her favorite pastime.

Yet she had simply walked away.

It left him with mixed feelings as he got himself dressed and a bit more composed. Bruce wanted to be angry that she had done what she had the night prior, he wanted to be angry that she had stayed when he told her to leave, but at the same time he sort of wanted to thank her for both of those very same things. _She never left..._ Natasha had promised to stay and she had. His hand reached for his back where he still felt that odd sensation of having walked through a spider's web, where her fingers still left traces of their comfort behind.

He shook that off after a moment and finally dared to leave the safety of his room. It took him a moment to look around and find her, but when he did, he couldn't help but soften his eyes a little. She was curled into the corner of the couch, elbow pressed down onto the arm of it, and her cheek rested on her palm with her eyes shut. One of those eyes opened and squinted at him before it closed again, and apparently, that was all he would get in reaction to his presence.

Or so he thought, until her voice rang out, still tinged with the barest hint of tiredness in it, "You good?"

"Uh..." Bruce figured he was about as good as he could be, "Yeah."

She never said another word, just stayed in that exact position and he forced his eyes to the arm she leaned on, to the small blemishes in her skin where his hand had been. He had hurt her, _again_.

"Don't do that." He frowned at that as he jerked his attention back to her face and she once more had both eyes open. Natasha edged herself upright and stretched a little before that flat and even tone vacated her lips again, "We all have bad nights."

"Other peoples' bad nights don't end with a Hulk."

One corner of her lips turned upwards into a small but slanted smile at that, "Neither did yours."

He sighed a little at her response. She had a tendency to downplay his issues and he wasn't sure why, "About that..."

Natasha merely waved the thought away with her hand, "This never happened."

Once again, she surprised him. "Aren't you the one always trying to make me talk?" he dared to ask. It was curiosity getting the better of him he supposed.

Her meager shrug was a little disconcerting, and so were her next words, "When do you want to leave?"

"I thought you wanted to stay..."

"Changed my mind."

 _No kidding..._ This was a rapid change from the woman who had infiltrated his home yesterday and had convincingly charmed and flirted him into returning to the tower. It certainly wasn't the same Natasha who had comforted him in the remembrance of his mother's murder. That thought made his heart jump a little and he noticed the way her demeanor shifted, as though she seemed to _know_ where his thoughts went.

"You can talk if you need to," came her sudden offer, though it lacked her usual warmth from the previous times she had told him the same thing.

Bruce shook his head at that. Maybe if she had been acting like her former self he might have thought about it, but something simply didn't sit right with him now, and as weird as it was, he actually sort of missed the Natasha who had attempted to weasel her way into his life before. "I guess whenever you want to go is fine," he finally told her.

She gave a small nod at that as she rather gracefully got to her feet before she quietly made for the spare room.

Apparently that meant she wanted to leave now and for a brief moment his curiosity got the better of him, so he moved over towards the doorway that still had nothing to cover it. He didn't dare to look in, especially since he knew for a fact that she had a fairly notorious habit of being naked when he did so. "Are you... alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He supposed that was a valid question and decided that asking had been a pretty frivolous idea, "Nevermind." Natasha never bothered to dignify that with a response and he stepped away from the doorway before he asked the next question, "So... you want to leave now?" There was silence before she emerged from the room wearing black skinny jeans, a red tank top, and her seemingly favorite pair of black combat boots and he couldn't resist his next question, "Do you own anything besides those boots?"

There it was, that sly little smile that he actually enjoyed the sight of. "Of course I do," she informed him. "And yes, I'd like to go whenever you're ready," she plopped that familiar black bag down on the floor by the door, much like she had the first time she had been here.

His brow ruffled a little as he looked between her and the bag, "Do you ever bring more than an overnight bag _anywhere_?"

The smallest twinkle of amusement lit her eyes once more before it disappeared, "Not unless I have to."

This new side of her was quite possibly more annoying and frustrating than any other side he had seen of her. "I have plenty of stuff still at the tower," he stated and he could actually hear the irritation in his own voice, "Just need my bag."

"The runaway bag?"

"Yeah, that one..." he grumbled out as he went to his room to get it.

They didn't talk again, not even when they were on the jet. Bruce had watched her set the autopilot after five hours into the flight before she slid onto the couch across from him, laid down, and turned her back to him without a word. This had easily become one of the most uncomfortable trips of his entire life, and before she eased into a rather restless slumber, he swore that the tension inside the small jet could have been sliced into with the knife she kept in her boot.

He had closed his own eyes for what he thought was a few minutes. It wasn't until he opened his eyes that he realized another four hours had gone by, and he wasn't sure what exactly had his heart racing this time. He didn't recall any foul dream that might have caused it. The smallest sound of a shaky breath reached his ears and he dragged his eyes over to Natasha. She was turned towards him now and unlike before, and he could see the movement of her eyes behind the lids that hid them, the way her whole body seemed to tense up every few seconds.

Bruce knew better than to go wake her up, even though every part of him hated to see it. Whatever plagued her sleep, her face was completely covered with perspiration, her hands clenched and unclenched the edge of the couch cushion. He tore his eyes away and figured she would probably just get even more strange with him than she already was if she knew he saw this, and he was about to drag himself to the cockpit when the mind-numbing _scream_ pierced his ears and brought him to his feet in an instant. She was sitting up, breaths coming out in actual pants before she clumsily fumbled her way off the couch and onto her feet, then tore through the back of the jet to the bathroom in the back.

He had to take a deep breath himself now, he counted, his heart rate had hit a rather high one-seventy-eight when that scream had rung out. It had been almost agonizing, and he dared himself to look back at where she was now seated on that ridiculously small bathroom floor. Natasha's eyes were squeezed shut, her arms clutched around her legs and her forehead leaned down to rest over her kneecaps.

It was a stupid idea, he knew it the moment his brain told him to do it, but he went with it anyways. His feet dragged him back towards her, and though he imagined she knew he was there, she never budged nor said a word. He did the only thing he could assume she might actually want him to do, and he closed the door.

Bruce stayed outside it for a moment and waited to see if she might tell him to do otherwise, he hoped she might tell him to come in.

She did neither.

Natasha stayed in there until the jet landed itself at Stark tower and it wasn't until she came out and picked up her bag that he knew whether or not leaving her be had been the right thing to do.

She gripped the black bag in one hand, walked towards were he stood at the exit and then paused and looked over at him. "Thanks..." and she sounded about as appreciative as he supposed Natasha actually could, but she also included one of those small and very real smiles that she rarely used.

It had been the right choice to shut the door, just like her choice not to leave him the night before had been the right one, much as he didn't want to admit that. Bruce watched her as she strode off the jet as though nothing had ever happened. She waltzed past Tony without a word and he supposed his friend was already aware that Bruce himself was back, even before he stepped off the jet and made his way over to him.

"Bruce, thank _God_..." Tony huffed out, "I need less estrogen in the tower, definitely less in my lab."

He couldn't resist giving the other man an odd look in reaction, "I thought Thor was here."

"Yeah, right," Tony rolled his eyes at that, "I don't consider an Asgardian in skinny jeans to be the epitome of testosterone."

Bruce smirked a little at that.

"How'd she convince you? You gotta tell me," Tony probed for the information as he stole Bruce's 'runaway bag' straight from his hands. "Sexual favors? _Tell me_ she offered a sexual favor. I wouldn't have come back for less than two."

Bruce groaned as he followed his friend back inside. He should have expected that, "Yeah—that never happened." Though, now that he thought about it, he barely managed to hide his remembrance at his first meeting with Natasha.

" _What if I say no?"_

" _I'll persuade you..."_

"Not one?" Tony huffed out a sigh, "You need to work on priorities, Bruceyboy."

Bruce gave him a look of disbelief, "Sexual favors are a priority?"

He watched Tony give him the most incredulous expression in response to that question, "Have you looked at Red? Yeesh, I mean—I'm not including myself, because I'm in a perfectly happy relationship, but any man that isn't on the other side of the fence, would _kill_ to have her fly sixteen hours to say, _I want you back_ ," and those last four words came out in a rather feminine voice that made Bruce chuckle.

He figured it was probably better to just ignore that rather than let Tony drag it on. "Actually, she told me that _you_ needed me," he stated, "according to Natasha, you're a weeping hot mess without me."

He watched the sunglasses on Tony's face drop to the brim of his nose, "Wait—did she flirt you into this sudden return?"

And now his face was red, Bruce was well aware of it.

"She _did_!" Tony grinned at that. Then a slightly more exasperated look crossed the billionaire's face, "Wait... are you telling me that my weeping hot mess of a self wasn't enough?" Bruce chuckled a little at that and then Tony spoke again, "Seriously, Bruce. You performed a serious infraction of the Bro Code here."

Bruce gave him the strangest look at that, "Which one?"

"One-thirty-five."

Bruce snorted out a laugh at that, "A bro never makes eye contact with another bro while eating a banana?"

Tony paused in the elevator, "Wrong code..."

"I should hope so... but before you try and figure out the right one, can I remind you of code one-twenty?"

He watched Tony stand there and think about that even a few seconds after the elevator had opened, then his friend stepped through the doors, "Ah—the whole, not showing nor telling a crazy chick where your fellow bro lives... and _how_ do you remember all these?"

"We even?"

Tony shifted his eyes around in thought before he finally spoke again, "Square deal. We should test the Gamma Pants."

"Those are done?"

"Please," Tony snickered, "Red's been in your pants more than you have recently."

And now he was red in the face again.

* * *

When Bruce didn't see Natasha again for two days, he finally decided to take it upon himself to search her out. With a little help and direction from Jarvis, he found her on the balcony that went out from the lounge and looked out over the city. He figured it was safe to approach, given that she probably already knew he was there anyway, and that she hadn't told him not to. So he moved next to her and mimicked the way she leaned on the ledge of the balcony, examining her view over the lights of the city below.

She didn't say a word, she just nursed the small glass in her hand that was filled with clear liquid, liquid he assumed was her favored vodka. For half a second he actually thought about asking her what the nightmare had been on the jet, what could make her scream like that. This was a woman who had been electrocuted in front of him and did little else but shutter and breathe through it, a woman who sat and had chats with The Hulk as though it were normal.

But she had looked terrified in those few seconds he actually got to see her face, and it was a terror that he knew well. He had seen it on his own face enough times to know the horror of a nightmare where _you_ were the monster. It hadn't been something that happened to her in the nightmare, but something that she herself had done.

Bruce figured he was going to have to be the first one to talk, "So...the pants work."

A clear success, because that monotonously void expression changed, the thin and even line of her lips slowly curled upwards and her eyes shifted in his direction. "That so?" she questioned. At his nod she glanced back out towards the city, "Too bad."

"Too bad?" he wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to take that.

One of her impish little smiles came about next as she twirled the glass, "Well, I bet Stark that your ass couldn't be as bad as he was saying." Natasha inclined her head a little towards him in a sideways nod before she tipped her glass and took the smallest of sips, "Guess now we'll never know."

 _Oh boy..._ Still, the random flirtation aside, she still didn't seem quite like herself. "You know, I won't tell anyone that you have a soft side." Bruce watched as her nose scrunched a little at that and she blinked a few times before she actually turned her head to look at him. "You've been different," he added in explanation and when she didn't reply he tried a different tactic, "I thought we were friends."

There was the tiniest flicker of animosity in her eyes that faded almost instantly before she looked back at the view of the city she seemed to be favoring, then she scoffed a little, "That's funny... I wasn't really under that impression."

"Natasha..."

She took another small sip from the glass, "Is there a reason you came looking for me?"

Bruce figured it out then. She really didn't think that they were friends, maybe she even thought he disliked her because he shut the door on her rather than make attempt to help or comfort her, but she had been different _before_ that. It only became more clear after that and he stared at her for a moment, trying to wrap his head around it. It was before her nightmare in the jet, and after his nightmare in India. "Did I do something—I mean—when I was sleeping?" it was such an awkward question to have to ask.

Natasha gave him the most absurd look in response to that. "Please, nothing you could have done would have even remotely bothered me," she assured him. "Plenty of people have done worse in their beds than sleep with their head on my lap." That was an alarmingly frightening answer and his discomfort must have been apparent because her expression softened just a fraction, "You didn't do anything," came her next reassurance.

"How do you talk about things like that like it doesn't bother you?"

It was probably a horrible question, and her perplexed faced told Bruce that he was right. "Because it doesn't bother me," came the rather simple answer, and it was one he doubted the validity of.

"Something is..." he mentioned.

"Like I told you, I'm not an expert on the whole friendship thing," Natasha reminded him. He supposed that rang true for both of them. "I gave it a shot," and she took her third sip out of that tiny glass she nursed in her hands. "Turns out it doesn't work so good when I'm the one trying to make friends with someone."

"You have friends," he told her. _She did, right?_

She smirked a little at that, "Barton and Rogers?" she chuckled as she swirled the vodka in her glass and stared at it. "I didn't really try to be their friends, they sort of weaseled their way in."

That actually made him laugh.

"Yeah, I laughed too when Steve actually suggested such a thing," she added with a smile. "He told me I was a hard person to trust because he didn't know who I really was," she explained as she released the tiniest breath that was just shy of a laugh. "I asked him who he wanted me to be, and... he said a friend." He watched Natasha chew on her lower lip for a moment, "I sort of laughed at him, told him he was in the wrong business."

"How'd he take that?"

Her face was a little more solemn after that, "He saved my life." She shook her head a little at that, then she did chuckle, "The only friends I have forced themselves into the position."

"Yeah," he agreed, "Mine too."

She smirked at that, "Like Stark?"

"And you."

That seemed to have floored her, because if the look she had given him before had been absurd, this one was downright ludicrous. Apparently, Natasha was also at a near loss for words, because only one left her lips, "Me?"

Bruce chuckled a little at that, "I know I haven't really been that great at being one back, but—you were trying, and I get that." He watched as her face changed from being a little less ludicrous and a bit more uncertain as she stared at her drink. "I'm not good at the friend thing either," he admitted. "But—I was sort of hoping to try and work on it," and he waited, but she she didn't say anything in response to that. "And I figured, if you still wanted to try to work with the...Other Guy... then—"

"You were right," she stated with a shrug, "It was a stupid idea."

That stung a little more than he wanted to admit.

"The truth is, when I'm around you, whether it's bad or good, these little warning bells tend to go off in my head," she told him. It was a weird statement that he didn't know what to do with. "You were right, when you told Stark that I was no good to be around," she added. She shrugged with a bit of indifference as she finished off her drink, "And I finally realized that."

Bruce was even more surprised when he placed his hand over hers and she didn't removed it, or react in any way at all. "Natasha...I meant that I wanted you to help."

"I have to go somewhere for a few days," she finally mentioned, "Barton needs me for something."

"Oh," and he figured it was probably best not to ask.

Her hand disappeared from under his and he watched her back as she retreated off the balcony. He had just looked away when he heard her footsteps pause at the double doors that led inside, so Bruce dared to glance back at her. She didn't turn around but she did speak again, "I'll think about it."

He figured that was better than nothing, but he didn't feel right letting her leave just like that, "Natasha?"

Now she did turn and look at him.

"Thanks... for what you did in Bahir."

That amused little smile graced Natasha's lips once more, "Thanks for shutting the door in my face."

He laughed at that, "You're probably the only person who could say that and actually mean it."

She didn't disagree, she just winked and disappeared from the lounge. Strangely, he found he was going to miss her for the next few days. He just hoped when she came back, she was back on the train where she wanted to be his friend.

* * *

 **That's all for now, but it probably won't take long for another chapter. Cheers!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note** : Here's another one for you guys. I, of course, underestimated my skills of dealing with visual stimulation for more than ten minutes at a time. So this didn't get up as fast as I had hoped, haha. Oh well, sorry about that. I should be up to par shortly.

Here's to **levi97100**. :) Always love chatting with him. Enjoy the much lighter chapter as opposed to my usual!

 **Chapter 13** :

Natasha had learned a few things in the decade that she had known Clint and Laura. Typically, if Clint called and said that he needed her to come to the farm, it really just meant that he either needed help with some project he hadn't yet finished on the house, or that he and the kids missed her if she hadn't come around enough. If Laura called and asked her to come to the farm, Natasha knew for a fact that it mean something was wrong with Clint, or Laura was quite nearly on the verge of killing her husband herself.

This was a Laura Barton call that Natasha deemed to be the latter version of an emergency once she arrived at the house. Her indecision about what to do with whatever was currently going on between herself and Bruce got pushed aside as Laura greeted her at the door. The usually stoic and calm wife of her best friend looked like she might just maim anyone who said the wrong thing and Natasha wisely said nothing as she went inside and took in the scene in the living room.

Clint looked like a pitiable mess on the couch with two sniveling and sickly kids snugly tucked into his sides, and he looked about as terrible as they did. Laura herself looked just as bad and Natasha knew from the last two pregnancies that the usually pleasant woman could turn into quite the epitome of hormonal rage.

The fact was, Clint Barton could take a bullet or any other life-threatening wound like the professional he was, but he turned into a petulant child when he caught something as petty as a cold.

So Natasha did the only thing she could think of; she dropped her bag in the doorway of the living room and sent Laura upstairs to vehemently ignore what was now to be considered the quarantine zone.

Laura gave her the most preposterous and grateful little disheveled smile she had ever seen, "I'm naming this child Natasha for this, I swear it."

And Natasha was pretty sure that was a joke, or rather, she hoped it was. No one in their right mind would name their child after her, though she didn't exactly consider her friend's wife to be in her right mind at the moment. Pregnancy hormones were downright frightening, even at twenty weeks into the pregnancy. Secretly, Natasha enjoyed the more hostile side of Laura, it was a hilariously drastic change of pace and it was probably a horrible thing to think.

"You're a sad excuse for a man, Barton," she said dryly as she stepped into the living room with her arms folded across her chest.

Cooper and Clint didn't budge, but they did give her rather moronic looks.

Lila, on the other hand, was on her feet and she moved at lightning speed, "Auntie Nat!"

Natasha grinned as she scooped the little girl up and onto her hip, "Now there's my _favorite_ Barton, you're not gonna be as much of a pathetic little stick in the mud as your father and brother, right, Li?"

"No way!" Lila agreed with a giggle. She chuckled as she carried the, for now, youngest member of the Barton clan with her into the kitchen. "Are we gonna make soup?" came the first question, one she was sure wouldn't be the last.

"Mmhmm," she agreed with a nod.

She couldn't resist the smile that remained planted on her lips when Lila kissed her on the cheek and wormed her way back down to her feet. "Chicken noodle?"

"You bet, kiddo."

The sly little grin that came across the little girl's face was one Natasha recognized as her own. It was fleeting moments such as this that shattered her a little more in her core; moments where she wondered that if the option hadn't been so thoroughly removed from her by Red Room, if she could have ever had this. Normally those thoughts never crossed her mind, she still wasn't sure she would _want_ this, but it didn't stop her from wondering if maybe she could have been good at it. Lila made her think that it was possible she could have been, even for just a few seconds of a few days, out of each passing year.

The child's comment that went along with the sly grin let the unbidden thought pass, "Daddy hates chicken noodle."

Natasha couldn't resist another chuckle as she winked at her, "I know." She gave Lila a playful flick on the nose, "There's something in my bag for you, scoot and go get it."

She didn't have to tell the girl twice, because Lila took off at the speed of light and was digging through the bag. "Sir Lambs-a-lot!" came the squeal of happiness. When she came bounding back into the kitchen with the tattered lamb in tow, Natasha smirked at the next question, "You don't need him?"

"Nah," she assured her, "I'm better now." Not entirely true, it was a little hard and painful to look at Clint after having that nightmare where she killed him. That one didn't creep up nearly as often as it used to, but that just made it even worse since she never knew when to expect it.

"Might hav'ta go to the store tomorrow," Lila informed her after nodding to Natasha's answer. "Mommy's felt too yucky to shop."

She huffed out a little laugh at that, "I'll take care of it." She watched Lila sniffle, rub her index finger under her nose, then hug the stuffed lamb a little tighter. "Go back on the couch with Coop and your dad, I can take care of the soup."

"M'kay."

It was a little bit later after she finagled enough ingredients and made the soup, and when she was handing it out, that Cooper gave her a rather lazy hug and a grateful smile along with the words, "Missed you, Aunt Nat."

And at least Cooper wasn't as pathetic as dear old dad was, "Missed you too, Coop." She ruffled his hair, went back to the kitchen and brought Lila's and Clint's with her at the same time.

Lila took hers greedily whereas Clint regarded her like the devil incarnate, "Really, Nat?"

"You better eat it or I'll actually let your hormonal wife end your existence," she warned, "And I really don't feel like breaking in a new best friend, though they probably wouldn't be as much effort as you. Rogers, for example, doesn't get sick at all, so he'd be a good replacement."

She smirked when he begrudgingly took the bowl and made a rather exaggerated show of sticking a spoonful of the soup into his mouth. Then her supposed best friend did the most immature thing that threw Lila and Cooper into a fit of giggles, he poked his tongue out at her, "Guess you're stuck with me, I refuse to be replaced by Captain America."

All she could do was roll her eyes at that as she retreated into the kitchen. She filled one last bowl and made her way up the stairs with it, not bothering to knock as she pushed open the bedroom door. She scrunched up her nose at the sound of Laura retching in the bathroom that was connected to the room and she placed the soup on the end table before she dared to go inside with her. It certainly wasn't the highlight of her life, but really, she had dealt with worse things than a puking woman. She crept in, held up Laura's hair and gave her an awkward pat on the back to ride it out.

There were a few minutes of silence before the proof it ever happened was flushed away. "Thanks," came Laura's always appreciative voice. Really, she wouldn't have done this for one single other person besides a member of the Barton clan, and Clint was excluded from that small list. "Well—you know, for everything, not just this," and then she was rinsing out her mouth and brushing her teeth, "Some women get morning sickness. I swear, I always wind up with all day long, all pregnancy long sickness."

Natasha just smiled a little at that. "Anything for you guys," she told her as she followed her back into the bedroom. Of course, she had the unbridled thought that Laura was testing the limits of that statement when the brunette took the bowl of soup, sat down on the bed, looked at it; then proceeded to burst into a water fountain of tears. A crying human being alone, not just Laura Barton, was something that Natasha Romanoff wasn't just ill-prepared to deal with, but was something she was fundamentally and utterly in the dark about. Red Room dealt with crying with a swift death and she was pretty certain Clint would be against that answer here. "Uh..." was about all she could managed to utter out in response before she tried to figure out what to do, "I mean—there wasn't much else to make..."

Wrong choice.

Laura's tears weren't just a fountain, now they were Niagara Falls. _Shit..._ "I—I can try and find something else." And the only thought that flitted across Natasha's brain was that pregnancy was freaking terrifying because the other woman only proceeded to cry harder. "Or maybe when I make a run to the store I can grab you a pack of condoms..."

She hadn't meant to say it, but the comment had the desired effect when the sniffling turned into a combination of crying and laughter. "Oh God..." Laura muttered out between what Natasha thought was a huff of a laugh, "I'm so sorry, Nat... I just—the soup is _really_ great."

And the tears were back.

"So you—you like the soup?" Natasha asked with uncertainty. She knew her own eyes were wide as she stared at the weeping woman.

"I cry when I'm happy!" came the exasperated cry.

 _Well, crap..._ "Okay... so..."

"Go, go ahead and get out," Laura insisted, waving one hand emphatically, "Really."

Natasha didn't need to be told twice, she escaped the room in seconds. She blew out a breath of relief when she hit the stairs and sat down at the top. The Hulk's containment cell was safer than that room was. This was going to be a rather uncomfortable few days.

It wasn't until she went shopping with Lila in tow on the next day, which she did across state lines over an hour away from the farm itself, that she turned her phone on and bothered to look at it. She had Lila's hand clasped into one of her own as they headed towards the store and her phone in the other, and she gave the phone an odd look when she saw the little square with a smiley face in the corner indicating a text message.

Typically, Clint or Steve were the only people to text her. Though she didn't doubt her partner would text her when she had only been gone for an hour and a half, she didn't assume it was him. She expected Steve, and instead found 'Banner' across the screen and she actually paused just at the entrance to the store, forcing Lila to stop too.

' _Friends?_ '

That was it. Nothing else, just a one word question that she still didn't have the answer to. She stuffed the phone back in her pocket and gave a small smile to the little girl who was giving her a questioning look. She let Lila push the shopping cart around as she piled in the food but the stupid little question kept poking and prodding at her, burning a hole in her pocket.

"These are silly."

Natasha glanced over to see what Lila was talking about, only to see the spinning wire rack that held a bunch of postcards, it caused her lips to involuntarily twitch into a small smile, "Which one is the worst one?"

Lila spun the rack several times before she handed one over.

She snickered the second she looked at it. "Yeah... that'll work," she decided out loud. Besides, Bruce had already said she had already completed her intrusion of friendship into his life. It was, in the terms of Tony Stark, a _dick move_ , to back out now. She figured if she was going to do the whole friend thing, then she would do it much like Clint had done to her, dive in head first and hope it will actually work out.

"Work for what, Auntie Nat?"

Natasha glanced down at Lila's look of confusion, "I have a friend that'll like this." She pressed her index finger to her lips like it was a secret and watched as Lila gave a covert smile and nod in response. She figured it was safe to assume the little girl would likely take the 'secret of the postcard' to her grave.

* * *

Bruce didn't actually send the daring question in the form of a text until the third day Natasha was gone. He supposed it was what she would call 'dorky', but much like the postcard, once he hit 'send' it was far too late to take it back. Unfortunately, there were no 'takebacks' on a cellphone text message. He wasn't really surprised to never get a response to it, but he was little let down, mostly because she had said she would only be gone a few days.

The no reply from the text and no return after a week, actually had him mildly uncertain if she had been lying, if maybe she really wasn't planning to come back. It wasn't until Pepper came into the theater room on day eight and handed him the postcard with a rather confused shrug that he decided that wasn't the case. When he saw the front, it had to be one of the most _ridiculous_ things he had ever seen in his life.

' _Greetings from Nebraska!'_ And there was a rather large red tractor going through a cornfield, a giant flatbed attached to the back, and one phenomenally large stalk of corn going up the flatbed and over the top of the tractor. On the bottom it said, '...w _here you can hear the corn grow!_ '

Bruce laughed. There was absolutely no stopping it from happening. Just like the less joking one that he had sent her, this one also had absolutely nothing written on it besides his name and the address of the Tower. Still, there wasn't really any denying that it was Natasha who sent it, because really... who the hell else would have? The only other thing he wondered was if she was even really in Nebraska, though knowing her, she had been, but probably not for very long.

You could take Natasha out of the spy game, but you couldn't remove the spy from Natasha, that was one of the things he had learned that first time she had shown up in India.

Still, he was left a little worried since that was the only thing he had to go by. Now he knew how frustrating his postcard must have been for her, although, his life wasn't quite so near-death and dramatic as hers was. Usually...

By day fifteen, he was more than a little worried, but Tony kept him preoccupied with getting his suits back up to par. They were just testing the chips in his arms again that would call his suit to him, so he sat back with his mug of tea and watched as Tony clapped his hands and told Jarvis to start the music.

What Bruce imagined _should_ have been one of the usual AC/DC songs to blare through the lab at a record decibel, instead came out as Britney Spears' 'Toxic'. He choked and spit the tea back into the mug when Tony was so thrown off that the chest piece of the Iron Man suit knocked him onto his rear.

And that was the moment he knew Natasha was back. He tried to hide his smile behind the mug as he made a hasty retreat from the mess now stirring in the lab and he found her standing just outside the door, arms folded with a rather smug smile planted on her lips.

"Worth it," came her only comment and he grinned at that.

"Did it have to be Britney?"

She shrugged a little at that as she lifted her back off the wall and headed down the hallway, "I didn't think that Tchaikovsky would have nearly the same effect."

Bruce couldn't help but smile at that. "So, Nebraska?" he finally questioned as he followed her.

"I was passing through, and that stupid postcard was too dorky to pass up." He let that go. "Besides, found it a little after that goofy little text message."

He laughed a little now, "So... we are friends then?"

Natasha gave the smallest roll of her eyes, "Don't be so sappy and sentimental about it, Doc, or I'll change my mind."

"Noted." She looked over her shoulder and gave him a smile at that, and it was then he actually got a good look at her face. She looked _tired_. "Are you alright?" he finally questioned.

"I could use a movie."

It sounded like a pretty good idea to him, he could use one too. "I'll make popcorn," he offered up, "You pick the movie."

There was that tiny but _real_ smile, "Deal."

He found her ten minutes later in the theater room and he actually laughed when he saw what was on the giant screen. She gave him a rather innocent smile, "I never said it would be a classic."

"Fair enough," he agreed as he joined her on the couch and sat the bowl of popcorn between them. It was a little hard to believe that she would pick _this_ out of any number of possibilities, but he supposed it wasn't a terrible one.

Apparently, Natasha was in the mood for Sci-Fi, because they were watching Starship Troopers. He wasn't expecting an explanation, but she gave one anyways, "Steve's friend, Wilson...he kept saying it was his favorite movie."

"It's not bad..." he tried to assure her.

"But it's not good?"

Bruce wasn't really sure, so he gave the only honest answer he could think of, "Not what I usually watch, is all."

She seemed to mull that over for a moment as she took a few pieces of popcorn and ate them. After she finished chewing she finally spoke again, "We can change it."

"Nah, might as well see if you like it," and from the look on her face through most of it, he guessed she wasn't really a huge fan either.

Natasha never turned it off, but she never really reacted whatsoever as she watched it. "So, giant super spiders, that's—that's it? A war with giant spiders?"

He snorted out a laugh at that, "I think there were a few cockroaches... and that last thing was sort of like a giant tick."

"Yeah... that was gross," she gave an unpleasant scrunch of her nose at that. It didn't stop her from plucking a few more pieces of popcorn from the bowl and popping them into her mouth. "That could never really happen."

"Well... that's why it's science fiction," he reminded her with a chuckle. "Giant Chitauri behemoths of a worm-like variety flew through New York City and you think giant soldier spiders are unbelievable?"

Natasha didn't have much of a reaction to that, "I draw the line at giant spiders."

" _That's_ where you draw the line, and aliens are on the acceptable side of the line?"

There was a near imperceptible shrug of her shoulders, "Maybe you should pick the movies from now on."

Bruce couldn't really disagree with her on that, and then he realized she was looking at him and waiting. "Wait—right now?" he questioned.

She gave a nod, "I need that whole movie out of my head."

He couldn't resist another laugh at that, "Alright..." When he changed the movie and got back to his spot on the couch, Natasha had the bowl of popcorn on her lap. It was about a third of the way through the movie when he felt her shifting over on her side of the couch. He kept his face on the screen, but he did cast his eyes in her direction. He watched as she laid back with her head on the armrest of the couch, then she stretched out with the bowl of popcorn on her stomach and her feet tucked dangerously close to his leg.

She never asked if it was okay, and he would never dare say that it wasn't, even if she had. It would seem that when Natasha decided to be your friend, she pretty much dove in and removed any previous barriers that might have existed, at least it seemed that way to him. Bruce barely hid the smile as he averted his eyes back to the movie, at least until her voice broke through the dialogue.

"So, you really want to let me work with the Big Guy?"

It gave him pause, "Honestly? The thought sort of scares the crap out of me..."

"Me too."

Certainly not the reply that he expected, "But you still want to do it?"

There was a tiny nod that he saw out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head to look at her more fully. At some point the bowl of popcorn had been moved to the coffee table and she simply laid there with her arms folded over her chest. "Yeah," and he supposed she did sound rather certain. Her eyes were still glued to the screen when she spoke again, "Of course, maybe we should work on you, too."

"Me?" and he thinks it sounds vaguely familiar, much like her disbelieving voice when he had told her she was his friend two weeks prior.

There's a little smirk playing on her lips now, "I'm just saying... it seems pretty feasible that trust between you and I would help with trust between myself and the Big Guy."

He's honestly a tidbit frightened by what she might deem to be an exercise in trust, but he can't deny that it's a plausible thought, even if the Other Guy didn't seem to care before. "So... you want to do what exactly, trust falls or something?"

"That's boring," she waved that off like it was the most nonsensical thing in the world. "Besides, you need to get a little more in tune with him too, otherwise what's the use?"

"That'll never happen."

Natasha didn't look entirely like she minded his thoughts on that, "Your choice." He felt her eyes finally shift to look at him now, "So when do you have your next pre-scheduled Hulk-Out?"

It sounded oddly funny when she put it that way, "Er... tomorrow."

"So we'll start tomorrow." Well, it was clear Natasha wasted no time. "And I'll think of something besides movie night to work on us."

She said 'us' like they were some sort of _thing_.

It threw him off kilter in the most extreme of ways and when he looked at her again, she was giving him a rather coy smile, then she unceremoniously plopped her feet onto his lap. Her gaze averted back to the screen before she spoke again, "Just remember, Bruce, you're the one who dug your heels in on this friendship thing." No doubt about that. "Now you're stuck with me."

Bruce released a nervous chuckle at that, and he gave her an odd look when he saw her nose twitch a little, then the tiniest noise came from her.

Natasha sneezed.

She seemed rather keen on pretending that it didn't happen, so he let it go for the moment. At least until it happened again, then a second later, again. When he looked over again, he could see the slight mortification across her expression, as though she could _control_ sneezes.

Then he realized that was exactly the problem. She couldn't control it.

Having no control was clearly an alarming and embarrassing thing for her, and he couldn't stop the snicker that he released when a forth sneeze escaped her. Natasha's nose was a little red now, but even so, she continued to pretend like nothing was going on.

Apparently, the fifth sneeze was her limit, because she removed her legs from their perch on his lap and stood up. "I'm gonna call it a night, see you tomorrow," she informed him before she escaped the theater room without giving him a chance to reply.

* * *

 **There we go. Hope you enjoyed the somewhat lighter chapter :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note** : Well, for some reason when I uploaded the last chapter, it deleted an entire scene written out. Turns out, I'm okay with that though, because I got to morph it into this chapter!

Ta-dah! And I want no complaints on how I went about it! You guys asked for the second half of this chapter, you got it. **xD**

 **Chapter 14** :

Natasha made her way down to the lab the next afternoon much like she said she would, unlike Clint, she wouldn't let a minor case of the sniffles bring her down. Besides, being a little extra tired was something she could handle. She cleared the tickle from the back of her throat, took a breath, then stepped into the lab. She tucked her hands into her pockets a she stepped up beside Tony and looked at The Hulk raging around inside the containment cell.

"I'm going to get payback for the music yesterday," Tony informed her, to which she smirked and gave a rather nonchalant shrug. "Only someone purely evil would do something that dreadful," came his next comment. "But since he's been Hulked out for several hours now, I'll belay retribution for the time being."

"Hours?" she questioned as she glanced over at the billionaire beside her. He wasn't saying anything, but she had a feeling he knew why Bruce had gone in there so early, and she had a feeling that she knew too. "Bad night?"

"Mmm..." came the affirmation, "He mentioned you stopped an... _incident_ , back in India."

Natasha studied the look on his face, but Tony seemed rather indifferent about it, "I guess I did."

She watched him glance over at her finally, "You know he's not nearly as tough as his angrier half, right?" came the question and she barely managed to keep on her mask at that. "What I'm saying is, you can't keep playing a game of tug-o-war with him. I've watched over the few months," he mentioned. "You pull on the rope, he lets go. He pulls on the rope, you let go. It's the worst game I've ever seen."

"I'm not playing games."

"Could have fooled me," Tony stated as he went back to watching The Hulk.

She stayed quiet at that for a few moments, ignoring the tickle that had reformed back in her throat. Maybe he was right, maybe she was playing a game, even if she hadn't been aware of it. "So, you want me to back off, is that it?" she questioned. It was a little hard to decide what exactly Tony was trying to do here, besides look out for his friend, but at least she understood that part of it.

Tony scoffed at that and gave her a rather pointed look, "I'm saying that you need to _stop_ backing off." Natasha watched as he went and sat down at his computer and she caught the eye of the raging green beast inside the cell, who didn't seem to care one way or the other that she was currently there. "Bruce likes you, maybe not at first, but he does now. And if you can't figure out how to stop backing off after you pull him in, then yes, I'm saying to end whatever this is completely."

She turned her gaze back to Tony and noted that he looked a little perturbed with her non-reaction to his words.

"I'm not questioning your intentions," the billionaire added next, "I'm just questioning your ability to let people inside that wall of yours."

"I know," she finally informed him. Natasha ignored the slight look of surprise on his face, "I'm trying."

Tony seemed to accept that small amount of words, though it didn't stop his next comment, "Well, stop trying. Just be his friend, or don't be his friend. This isn't an in-between thing here, you can't jump which side of the fence you're on whenever you feel like it."

She ignored her instincts that told her to retort with something unkind, because although she was far from simple when it came to things, she wouldn't tell him how it wasn't nearly as easy as choosing left or right. She opted to make no comment at all on his statement. "Open it," she told him.

"You don't want to start with chitchat?"

"Didn't we just do the chitchat?"

She saw the small smirk playing on Tony's lips at her comment and then she watched him look her up and down, "What the hell are you wearing, Romanoff? It's at least about... eighty degrees down in this lab."

"Seventy-nine degrees, sir."

"Right, seventy-nine."

Natasha glanced down at herself, jeans and a black hooded sweater, and she was still a bit chilly. "I didn't realize I needed to dress to impress down here, you never seem to."

"I resent that," Tony gave her the evil-eye, "I'm the definition of impressive. My picture is in the dictionary, right there next to the word 'impressive'."

She rolled her eyes at that, "Would you just open it?"

"Sure, sure," he agreed as he pressed the button. She quirked an eyebrow up when an actual 'person' sized door slid open rather than the entire length of the containment cell. "I made some improvements, just in case another crazy person ever decided to jump into the Hulk-cell," he quipped.

"That's hilarious," she muttered out with a shake of her head. Of course, The Big Guy was already watching her steadily as she stepped inside, so she didn't feel the need to go and warn him that she was about to do so. "Hey, Big Guy..." and he seemed like his usually annoyed self, so she supposed all was well so far. Then he seemed to give her a once over, head to toe, "Really? You have something to say about my wardrobe choice, too?"

She could _hear_ Tony snickering.

"Sure, laugh it up, both of you," she grumbled with a sigh, "Next I'll make a gamma shirt with kittens on it..."

The look on that angry green face was one of being mildly insulted and that actually made her chuckle.

"Did you just threaten our big green friend with a kitten shirt?"

"Shut up, Stark," she called out. She smirked when the Big Guy threw a brick at the glass where Tony was sitting at his computer and the billionaire promptly jumped out of his skin.

"Oh, sure, take her side on the kitten shirt!"

That itch in her throat was _really_ pissing her off though, Natasha figured she probably just needed to get this over with for today, worry about getting more in depth on the de-Hulking later. "Sun's getting real low now, Big Guy," she offered up, figuring it was best to keep things familiar as she raised her hand towards him. "What do you say?"

He looked like he was thinking about it, but he didn't move towards her.

She frowned a little at that, trying to figure it out. This was _usually_ how this went, something about her raised hand usually triggered it, but he didn't look all the interested, just a little more annoyed. It took Natasha a moment to mull it over, the two times he _had_ de-Hulked.

"Maybe he only likes people in near-death situations!"

 _For the love of_... "Shut up, Stark!" she growled again, and another brick flew at the glass. Her head _actually_ hurt now and she rubbed at her eyes a little, but the headache wasn't ebbing away. _Think, think..._

The first time she had been strapped into that chair, and she hadn't really initiated much of anything on that, except for saying Bruce's name. Obviously Bruce's concern for her well-being had overridden the Big Guy's usually violent anger, but that large green hand had covered hers _before_ that moment where she saw Bruce in those giant eyes.

The other time, she had been on the ground, actually in fear that she was about to be a smear on the pavement when he crushed her. He hadn't though, he had stopped.

The real question was _why_ did he stop?

"I think I get it..." she mumbled to herself before she crouched down.

Those two times she hadn't seemed like a threat to him, the first for obvious reasons, the second for equally obvious reasons.

"Better?" she questioned. He grunted a little with what sounded like agreement before he came stomping towards her in a huff. The Big Guy looked a little like he was debating whether or not he was actually interested in going along with it for another minute before he did a little vulturistic circle around her. She could see the questioning look on Tony's face and she gave the most imperceptible shrug she could manage at that. Still, she had the feeling that even when it was Bruce, the Big Guy was lurking somewhere in his head, he must _know_ what she's trying to do. "C'mon, Big Guy," she offered up. "You know I'm trying to help, right?" She scrunched up her nose a little.

He came back around in front of her and snarled as though he regarded her a bit like she was a nuisance to him.

"I'm doing the best I can manage," she added quietly, and his usually large and angry eyes turned into slits like he was studying her. "I won't back off," she tried next, "I want to help." The tickle was _not_ just in her throat anymore.

He seemed to at least accept it as he raised his hand up just shy of touching hers, much like on the streets of New York last time, and it seemed like it would go without a hitch.

Until she did the unexpected.

Natasha sneezed and the Big Guy jumped back like she had attacked him. The look on his enraged face said he was more than a little offended and he started to stomp around the other end of the cage, shaking the hand that she sneezed on. She took that as a cue to leave the cell rather quickly, and she watched Tony's amused expression as she exited the door he opened for her.

"Did you just sneeze on The Hulk?"

His voice was filled with a mixture of shock and clear amusement at what had just transpired, and really if she had gotten Hulk-Slapped in that moment, she would have accepted that she deserved it. It would have been the most ridiculous reason to be killed by The Hulk, but still, a well-deserved reason.

"I would have smeared the wall with you," came his next quip and she huffed out an amused chuckle.

"You and me both."

Natasha watched his fingers on the keyboard, so she snatched a piece of paper from Bruce's desk, rolled it into a ball and pelted Tony square in the forehead, "If you put that on YouTube, I'll end you, Stark."

He almost looked like a kid who got his candy stolen. "Oh come on, it'll have more hits than when you de-Hulked him on the street," he groaned out. The look of determination must have been clear on her face, because his dream of being a YouTube sensation died quickly, "You're not really about to go back in there, are you? I can see the glint in your eyes and you—you just _sneezed_ on him, that can't possibly be a good idea."

Admittedly, he was probably right. The Big Guy currently looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum in the cage, "He'll get over it..."

"Not anytime soon, I'd imagine," Tony was snickering again and she shook her head a little. It was probably true, the Big Guy was definitely a little peeved.

Of course, the outrageous sneezes weren't over, because another one escaped her. Not only did Tony give her an odd look, but The Hulk looked over like she had just blasphemed him, and then a brick hit the containment cell in front of her.

"Are you sick?"

Natasha glanced over at him, "I'm fine." Of course, that tickle in her throat chose _now_ of all times to finally make its grand entrance, and she cleared her throat. The effort was in vain, because a moment later, she choked out the cough she'd been keeping at bay since she arrived.

"Oh boy..." Tony grumbled out as he stood up. "What cooties did you bring into my lab, Romanoff?" he questioned next as he stood up to get a better look at her. She narrowed her eyes at him slightly as he got about a foot away, then he topped it all off with his next statement, "Jeez, you know... being sick _would_ have been a legitimate excuse to not come here, you know that, right?"

She shrugged indifferently at that.

Then Tony gave her a pompous smile, "You really _are_ trying!" he hooted out.

The man really knew how to make everything just a little more uncomfortable, fortunately, Jarvis seemed ready to save her from any further ridicule, "Miss Romanoff, my sensors indicate you currently have a body temperature of 102.7 degrees Fahrenheit. Might I suggest you get a glass of water and return to your room to rest?"

She cleared the tickle from her throat and sighed, making it a point to ignore the suddenly more concerned look that crossed Tony's face, "Yeah, sure Jarvis." She pretended she didn't see Tony studying her as she rolled the stiffness out of her shoulders, pulled on the hood of her sweater, and stepped out of the lab.

* * *

It had been about eight hours since he had been back to himself, and actually slept, that Bruce finally dared to voice his question as he sat in the lab with Tony, "I take it Natasha's de-Hulk attempt didn't work?" He watched as Tony snickered a little, "What's so funny?"

"It was going fine, right up until she sneezed on him, then he threw the biggest tantrum I've ever seen, he stayed Hulked out for about an extra five hours after that," came Tony's amused remark.

Bruce could only stare wide-eyed at him at that, "Natasha _sneezed_ on the Other Guy?"

"Truly priceless," Tony admitted with a grin. It actually was a little funny now that he thought about it, and since the billionaire was laughing about it, Bruce could safely assume Natasha hadn't been splattered for it. "Really though, she should have been in bed," came the next offhanded comment.

He gave his friend and odd look, "Why?"

"Miss Romanoff appears to have the flu, Doctor Banner," came Jarvis' reply.

"How's Red doing, J?"

Bruce waited for that answer now too.

"Unfortunately, Miss Romanoff has once again overridden my system, I cannot currently assess her situation."

He could see Tony face-palm at that and it made him chuckle a little before he stood up, "I'll go check on her."

"Hey, Bruce?"

Bruce glanced back at him, "Yeah?"

Tony looked rather nonchalant when he spoke his next words, "Cut her a little slack." _That_ was not what he expected to hear. "You think she's tough to get along with normally? I imagine a sick Natasha is pretty much a hundred times harder to deal with," came the next comment. Tony gave a little shrug, "I wasn't even sure that woman could _get_ sick."

"Well, she's not a robot, Tony," Bruce muttered with a roll of his eyes, "People who aren't Captain America or giant green rage monsters occasionally do human-like things, such as getting sick."

"Exactly, you'll do well to remember that," came his friend's next comment from left field.

He _really_ had no idea what to make of this conversation, "Right..."

It wasn't until he was out of the lab and inside the elevator that Jarvis spoke up again, "I believe what he was trying to tell you, Doctor Banner, is not to take offense if Miss Romanoff gets a bit..." the AI paused in an attempt to search for the right word, "Prickly."

It actually made him laugh to hear that, "I'll take that under advisement, Jarvis."

"Very well, sir."

* * *

Terrible didn't even _begin_ to cover how she felt after she woke up and it actually took an effort for Natasha to drag herself out of the bed and into the bathroom. Earlier she was frozen, _now_ she felt like she was on fire. Still clad in her tank top and shorts, she stepped into the shower, threw down the nozzle and sat down in the spray of cold water. No wonder Laura had called her, she couldn't imagine dealing with Clint and two kids while feeling like this. Other than the occasional infection from a wound, she didn't get sick, not even so much as a cold... and it sucked.

She never even heard the knock on the door to her room in the tower, not over the hammer that was currently pounding against her skull. She very vaguely thought she heard Bruce's voice _inside_ her room, but she never heard it again. Natasha kept still in her position on the shower floor, hugged her knees to her chest and laid her forehead to rest on her kneecaps. At least _one_ thing felt good, and that was the cold water raining down on her.

She definitely didn't remember falling back to sleep like that, not until a pair of hands on her shoulders shook her back into a state of awareness. That itself was enough to put her on the defensive, and the intruder must have noticed.

"Natasha..." and she was pretty damn sure that was Bruce, so she opened one eye to look. Sure enough, she was right, Bruce was half leaning into the shower and looking more than a little worried. "I—you left the door open," he informed her, as though she would _actually_ care one way or the other or how he got in her bathroom.

"Mm... and that explains why you're in my shower?" she mumbled out.

"I uh—I waited a while outside, but then I said your name a few times and you n—never answered..."

"Chicks dig guys who stutter in their shower," she mumbled out next. She opened her other eye and watched his face turn red, and if she could manage to find the energy, she might have actually smirked at the sight.

Bruce looked more than a little uncomfortable, "Might stutter less if you moved the knife..."

She glanced at her hand and sure enough, she _was_ pointing a knife at his neck, so she tossed it aside, "Sorry."

"Er...it's fine," he assured her. "You brought your knife into the shower?"

Natasha rested the back of her head against the wall in the shower, "Old habits." And she supposed that about summed up how she felt about the people she had been around most her of life up until this point. She gave him the dirtiest look she could manage when he turned the water off. "What the hell did you do that for?" she growled out.

"One, you're shivering," came his admonished tone. "Two, cold water doesn't help, it makes it worse," he informed her. She frowned at him when he pulled her off the wall a bit and started tugging a towel around her, "Come on, get up."

"I'm fine right here."

She could actually _feel_ the frustration coming off him in waves and she rubbed at her temples and then her eyes to try and make the pressure go away. Then she heard him huff out what she assumed was a sigh before his footsteps retreated from the bathroom. For about ten minutes she thought she won the war until he came shuffling back in with a pair of his own sweatpants and one of his own shirts, "I wasn't about to dig through your drawers, and you can't stay in those clothes."

"And whose going to force me to change, Doc, you?"

"Natasha... would you _please_ just get up?"

Quite frankly, she _really_ didn't want to but she did it anyways, just out of pity for him if nothing else. It was only when she was on her feet on on the actual bathroom floor that she saw herself in the mirror, and she was pretty sure she looked about as atrocious as she felt. Bruce had been putting it mildly when he told her she was shivering. Looking at herself in the mirror, towel wrapped around her, she was shaking and her teeth were chattering a little.

And of course, Bruce set the clothes down on the sink and stepped out of the bathroom. It took more effort than it probably should, but she dropped the towel and managed to shimmy out of the tank top and shorts that were practically stuck to her body. Normally she was finicky about cleaning up, but she couldn't find it in her to care as she tossed the sopping heap of clothing down with the towel and tugged on the too large sweatpants and the button up shirt. _And did he really need to choose one with buttons?_

The only reason he was even alerted to her presence outside the bathroom was because she wound up being unable to stop the _sniffle_ that made its way from her nose. Stubborn pride had her looking anywhere except for at him and she hugged her arms around herself to try and draw in some form of warmth. Now she was back to cold again and the switches were really beginning to grate on her nerves.

"You look...awful."

"Gee, thanks," her voice was a little hoarse now. She knew it was coming, but even so, she winced when the cough racked through her body. Her entire chest ached with it and Bruce's frustration with her earlier refusal to move seemed to evaporate in an instant.

"Come on," and she _really_ just wanted to smack his hand away when it tugged her arm and he pulled her forward, but she just didn't have it in her.

Natasha was going to torture Clint for this, because there was nothing quite as embarrassing as being shoved into her own bed by Bruce Banner. She got under the covers without a word and tugged the pillow over her heard, determined to pretend that _none_ of this was actually happening. She was pretty sure that Bruce had decided to leave her be now that she was back in the bed.

She was right, and she noted that the clock no longer said _1:02am_ and instead said _8:54am,_ when she heard his voice again.

"Natasha."

Not a chance in hell was she going to deal with this again, and instead she tried to pull the pillow tighter over her head. She was also pretty sure Bruce was rolling his eyes at her right about now.

"You need to eat something, and drink something."

And she was still pretty determined to pretend he wasn't actually there. That became impossible the moment he promptly removed the pillow from her head and sat on the edge of the bed. She gave him her best death glare when she finally managed to turn her head in his direction.

Also, not effective. Bruce actually smiled a little sheepishly, "Yeah... that look isn't so scary when your nose looks like Rudolph and your eyes are all puffy, plus, you're pretty much cocooned inside your blanket right now."

"There's also a gun under my pillow," she managed to croak out. And holy hell, she sounded like shit, even to her own ears.

"Good to know," and the fact that he doesn't sound the least bit alarmed by that told her a lot. She must have really looked like crap.

Natasha could barely breathe when she finally decided to try and get herself into a sitting position. It took far too much effort, and now she knew what Bruce meant with the cocoon comment. She quite literally had the blanket wrapped around her at least twice, one foot hung out the end and then the blanket wrapped around the rest of that leg too. She huffed out a breath, coughed, and pulled the stolen pillow back over her head when she gave up the feat of sitting up.

And she was pretty sure Bruce let out a rather foul expletive in response to that before he followed it up with that pitiable tone from the night before, "Please?"

No way was she going to let that work on her again, "Go away, Bruce."

It seemed Bruce wasn't going to do any such thing, because the pillow got removed again and tossed onto the floor. "Much as I'd love to keep up this pillow fight, I don't have the energy..." she finally grumbled out. She did shoot a dirty look to him when he pulled her into a sitting position and this time he actually did look a little nervous. It took a minute to untangle the mess she made of the blanket from around her, but when she did, she eyed the bowl of soup that Bruce held out to her. "Why exactly are you doing this?" she finally dared to ask.

"Because you won't..."

The way he said it made it sound like the most obvious answer in the world and she frowned a little, "So you took it upon yourself?"

"We're friends, pretty sure friends do that." That sort of destroyed her rather mediocre fight that she had been putting up against his help and she took the offered bowl of soup in silence. She supposed this was the tug-o-war game that Tony had mentioned to her the prior day, and she was determined not to let the rope go just to let Bruce fall on his ass, again...

She could see the rather amused yet mortified look on his face as he looked at her after she actually took a few spoonfuls of the soup, so she leveled him with a slightly annoyed look, "What?"

And then he looked rather embarrassed about being caught staring, though Natasha's muddled brain couldn't really process why. "Nothing..." he insisted, but she knew better, even his 'nothing' sounded entertained.

It became even more clear that it wasn't nothing, because now he was doing his best not to look at her. She could barely see herself in the mirror that sat over top of the dresser, but at least now she could see what he did. That ridiculous button up shirt of his she was wearing was buttoned up completely ass-backwards. She looked like an imbecile.

Bruce was _still_ chuckling.

"Shut up, Bruce..."

Apparently, that just made the whole thing funnier, because he laughed just a little harder. That was about all she could handle of this 'friendship' and she put the soup on the end table before her fingers fumbled with the buttons of the shirt. Because _now_ was a certainly a good time to be vain about her appearances, what with her 'Rudolph nose and puffy eyes'.

"What are you—oh boy..." she barely managed to hide the smirk when he quickly averted his gaze as she re-buttoned the shirt. Bruce cleared his throat, "Next time... no button-ups."

"Good plan," she agreed. "So, I ate some of your soup. Can I go back to sleep now?" She sighed when he held the glass of water out to her, but accepted it nonetheless, "You're a pushy friend, anyone ever told you that?"

He gave a rather coy smile, something she had never actually expected to see on Bruce himself, "So are you." She actually choked on the water and coughed out what was supposed to be laugh. That, of course, ruined the lighter moment because it turned into a fit of coughs that she couldn't quite get a handle on. "Lay down," Bruce's voice ordered softly through it. The urge to trounce him for giving her an order came back fairly quickly, but then she figured that bringing out the Big Guy was a bad idea, since he was probably still pissed that she sneezed on him.

Besides, she was supposed to _stop_ pushing him away. "Pillow," she finally grumbled out. She watched him awkwardly get off the bed and retrieve the pillow he had stolen and tossed aside earlier. She took a sip of the water, then traded it for the pillow, and a second later she rolled over and put the pillow back over her head.

Natasha needed to hide, because admittedly, this was just downright shameful. She wasn't trained for this, she wasn't trained to be someone's friend, and she certainly wasn't trained to be taken care of. That wasn't really the thing to hide from most though, the worst part was, she was acting like Clint. That was downright terrifying in its own way.

* * *

Bruce gave her a few hours before he dared to go back into the lion's den. He was well aware she wasn't happy with him intruding on her like he was and he hadn't initially planned to do it. She just looked horrible huddled into a ball in that shower, shivering with her teeth chattering, and _sleeping_. He couldn't imagine how tired you had to be to fall asleep with ice cold water raining down on you, but exhausted probably didn't quite cut it.

He had to give Natasha credit though. She was trying her hardest _not_ to follow all her instincts, minus the knife incident, and she was doing her best not to push him away. She was being mildly frustrating in that horrible patient sort of way, but she wasn't completely shoving him out like he expected her to. Plus, her mask was pretty bad when she was sick it seemed, because there were quite a number of times where he thought she might actually hit him.

He was going to give her until dinner time before he intruded again, just to give her that much needed space she craved, but Jarvis changed his mind on that immediately mid-afternoon.

"Doctor Banner, Miss Romanoff's temperature appears to have gone up."

"Gone up to what?"

"Yesterday afternoon it was 102.7 degrees Fahrenheit. My scans read that her current temperature is now 104.1 degrees."

And that certainly wasn't good. Bruce made his way towards her room and he actually groaned when he heard the shower going. He knocked, got no reply, and entered without a second thought. It was hard to forget not going straight in last time, this time though, he watched the steam pouring out from the bathroom and his frown grew tenfold. "Natasha?"

Nothing.

He was just outside the bathroom now, and once again, she had the door opened. It was almost exactly the same as he had found her last time, the only difference being the water temperature. And she was clothed, again, sitting under the scalding spray. If he thought she looked awful this morning, now she just looked like death. "Natasha," he tried again. She didn't answer and for half a second he was afraid she really might actually be dead. He was just reaching out to her when she jolted from his hands, and he half-expected the knife to make a reappearance.

And the water was more than just scalding. He turned it off in an instant and watched her teeth chatter almost instantly.

"S'cold..."

"It's not," he assured her, crouching down to get level with her. "It's just the fever, Natasha. You'll only make it worse with the water that hot..." From the mess she looked like now, he had to hazard a guess that the Black Widow didn't typically get sick, or at least, not on a level that affected her so much. _The less you got sick, the worse your immune system..._ "Alright... come on, up and out of there," he told her, once again trying to put a towel around her.

He didn't win this time. She swatted his hands away.

"You're only going to make it worse," he tried to tell her again. "You can't sit in wet clothes—" and he paused when her finger pointed up to the sink. He raised an eyebrow up at the sweater and sweatpants she had folded up, "Oh good... at least you prepared ahead for your dysfunctional way of coping with the flu," he quipped dryly. She was going to give herself pneumonia at the rate she was going, "Natasha, are you really going to make me drag you out of the shower?"

"Try it..."

And really, the dare shouldn't have been so downright intimidating when it came from a woman huddled on the floor of her shower, but the way she said it actually gave him the chills. Natasha didn't look at all thrilled when he fully stepped into the shower and took a rather uncomfortable seat next to her, "Guess you don't do sick very well, huh?"

"Clearly..." she mumbled out.

"Natasha—"

"Just gimme a minute..." came her muttered response. Bruce felt his brow wrinkle at that and he was determined _not_ to shy away when her head lolled over onto his shoulder. This was about as uncomfortable as things could _possibly_ get for him. At least until he realized in that second that her breathing had evened out and her arm tucked around his chest. _"_ Oh no..." oh yes, Natasha was asleep again.

Saying her name didn't wake her up. Shaking her didn't do it either. Natasha Romanoff was _out cold_.

Bruce certainly wasn't equipped to handle this.

"Should I call for Miss Potts, Doctor Banner?"

As if this wasn't already awkward enough, "N-no... it's fine..." after all, she tended to get half-naked in front of him all the time anyways, and it wasn't like he hadn't had to strip her to tend to her wounds after Samara.

"Very well, Doctor."

But this was a whole new playing field. "Shit..."

* * *

 **Too tired for much else, so I'll just end it with another, ta-daaah! Anywho, more madness to ensue next chapter.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note** : Sorry for the less than speedy update that I had promised you guys. Had to go away for a family event for the last few days so I never had much of a chance to write. As usual, you guys are all quite amazing! I think you guys enjoyed Natasha sneezing on the Hulk a bit too much, haha. Nearly every review mentioned it and I laughed each and every time.

This one is for **CottonCandy** , don't think I've shouted one out to you yet **:D**

Without further ado, picking up right where we left off last chapter.

 **Chapter 15** :

It seemed someone higher up, or maybe just Natasha herself, took pity on him. Just as Bruce got over his racing heart at the far too intimate realization that he needed to remove her clothes, Natasha's hand shot out and caught his wrist just as his hand drew closer to the hem of her shirt.

"I got it..." came her grumble. She sounded miserable, but he couldn't help the relieved breath he blew out as she opened her eyes into slits and looked at him, "I really look that bad?"

 _Oh no..._ "You don't... I mean you—you look fine, it has nothing to do with h-how you look."

There was the smallest little smile planted on her lips against his shoulder and her hand was _still_ on his chest. She was teasing him, "You're stuttering in my shower again..." and he certainly was.

"This is...weird for me," he really couldn't think of any other way to put it, but it was stupid now that he thought about it, because he doubted she thought this was 'normal'.

"Yeah..." Natasha proved his last thought valid with that one single word, because her hand shied away and her head slowly rolled back to lean against the wall of the shower. It made it more awkward for Bruce now, because he sort of missed both the moment they were gone.

"You can go, I'm fine," it was impossible to believe that with her voice croaking the way that it was. He had a feeling that admitting this was weird for him had been a bad idea. She had shown him some semblance of trust in letting him help her in the first place and he had belittled it by saying he felt weird about it.

"You're not fine," he reminded her with a sigh. "And honestly, your method of taking care of yourself is a little terrifying and not helping you get any better." She was quiet for a moment other than the part where she sniffled and cleared her throat, so he finally dared to look at her. It was hard to believe that someone could have such a vacant expression when they had the flu, but she was doing it like a pro. He figured he was going to have to get 'pushy' with her again, "Now will you get up?"

Natasha remained silent at first before she started to attempt to move and he knew it couldn't be easy for her, since he was having a difficult enough time doing the same on the wetness of the shower floor. Once he was on his feet he got her arm over his shoulder and dragged her up to her feet as well, though it almost turned into a disaster when her feet slipped. He counted ninety-eight seconds and some extra beats of his heart as he was stuck against the shower wall with her pressed against him. Then she spoke, "Sorry..."

"It's alright..." his voice came out hesitant because he knew better and he wisely knew that she did too. No matter who the man, when a woman like Natasha was dripping wet in a shower in said man's clothes, that man was by no means _alright_. Brutish green alter-ego aside, he was still a man, and a woman fifteen years his junior was plastered to him at the moment. Sick or not, she was impossible not to notice.

Even so, he managed to get her out of there without any further hassle, and she never said a word about his increased heart rate, though he knew she noticed it. Her next comment was a clear attempt at levity, "You know...when I said we would work on things with us—not what I had in mind."

It worked, sort of, and he forced out a small laugh to acknowledge it, "I figured..."

Bruce watched as she put her hands on the sink to steady herself further and then that hoarse voice crawled back out from her lips, "You can go get changed or something. I'll be a few minutes."

"Are you sure?" It must have been a stupid question, because Natasha settled him with a rather profound look that told him she was. "Okay then, I'll uh... I'll be back in a few minutes," he told her. Before he left, he couldn't help the next words that left his mouth, "No more shower therapy," and she did look at least a little amused by that.

"I'll wait until you come back, I doubt it would be as much fun without the stuttering..."

He had a feeling Natasha had been holding back her teasing until now since he mentioned this being 'weird', which he was more than grateful for, but he did give her a small smile and shake of his head before he made his escape. Of course, that escape was short lived when he walked out the door of her mini-apartment and Tony was standing there with the most cheeky grin he had ever seen on the other man.

The comment was equally as bad, "You're supposed to get the woman all wet, Bruce, not the other way around." Between Tony and Natasha, he almost believed they were collaborating to make him as uncomfortable as humanly possible and it must have shown, because his friend swept any further comment under the rug, "So, I take it Romanoff is a bad patient."

"Not a great one, but she could be worse," and it was true, Natasha must have felt worse than he thought, because she wasn't putting up nearly as much of a fight as he would have imagined from her. "She's uh—she's changing. Could you just look in on her in a few minutes?" and this time Tony was the one who looked uncomfortable.

"Me?"

Bruce sighed at the exasperated voice and shook his head, "You don't have to. I just need to change, but she—she needs to eat something and she won't if I don't get it for her." Tony still looked completely ill at ease with the request and he knew he was going to have to persuade him into it. "She's making herself worse, I don't feel comfortable leaving her alone," that was a more effective argument.

Tony sighed and folded his arms over his chest as he mulled it over. "I'll do it because you're my friend, but when she stabs me for going in there, you better save my life and stitch me up," came his rather unwilling agreement.

"Deal, she really does have a knife in there somewhere though, so watch out for that," Bruce couldn't help the shameless grin he had on now as he sidestepped Tony and quickly made like a bandit for his own room.

But he did glance back and watch Tony open Natasha's door and go inside with his hands over his eyes, and he heard the shouted comment, "Romanoff! You better be decent!"

* * *

Even though it was _his_ tower, there was no more uncomfortable of a moment than entering Natasha's personal quarters. For Bruce's sake, Tony had done it with his usual gusto and sarcasm, but the redheaded assassin scared the living hell out of him. Unlike Bruce, he and Natasha weren't friends, or if they were then no one had thought to inform him of it.

"Go away, Stark."

Definitely not friends, and there was a definite threat in that simplistically small amount of words that he deemed to be coming from somewhere in the bedroom area, so he slowly moved that direction. "Like I said, you better be decent and if you're not, you better tell me. I don't want to explain to Pepper why I saw your naughty bits."

Natasha never said otherwise, so he blew out a breath and forced himself to enter the bedroom. She was nowhere in sight, though he remembered Bruce's soaked clothing and figured out her location easily enough. He grimaced a little when the theory was proven by the sound of dry heaving for a minute or two and he dared to stand just outside the doorway.

"I know you're still there..."

On some level she still sounded pissed off, but on another level, her voice was so broken that Tony wasn't sure if she was more pissed at him, herself or maybe even Bruce. "Well, yeah. When you tell your friend you'll do something, you do it, and Bruce asked me to," he informed her.

"Fine..." came her mumbled response, and apparently pulling the Bruce card had been the right call to make. He heard _something_ drop and break in the bathroom and a foreign word that he assumed was something vulgar before her voice rang out again, "But if you walk in this bathroom, I'll end you before you ever get the chance explain to Pepper why you saw me naked."

"Duly noted," he didn't bother to mention having already seen her in her 'ladywear' back in India months prior. Curiosity, as usual, got the better of him in that moment, "I do have a question."

She never answered, but he could still hear her moving in the bathroom and he assumed she heard him.

"I mean, you were pretty terrible at the whole, trying to be a friend thing most of the time," he mentioned as he leaned against the wall with his arms folded. "Not to say you didn't have moments where you actually did a hell of a job, but most of the time you weren't very good at it," he tacked on next for good measure.

Tony heard the sound of something wet hitting the linoleum of the bathroom and then her voice decided to answer, "I thought you had a question, not a play-by-play of my inability to be a friend, and we already had this discussion."

Screwed that up already, and he figured she would probably just prefer it if he were blunt about it, so he just hammered the question out, "Why'd you pick Bruce?"

"You picked him," she answered within a second. "I was perfectly content with being miserable on my own, then you went and pawned me off on him," came her added explanation. It was a little raspy and she cleared her throat a few times to try and rid herself of the discomfort.

Tony actually chuckled a little at that and he stood there in silence for a moment. He never heard another noise from the bathroom and after a few minutes he dared to glance inside, "Romanoff?"

"I'm fine."

He supposed it wasn't a lie and he chuckled when he saw her sitting on the bathroom floor, chucking pieces of the ceramic tooth brush holder into the tiny trash can next to the toilet. It shouldn't have been quite so amusing, but her back was against the wall and she was almost treating it like it was a game of basketball. If it weren't for her extra pale complexion, reddened nose, puffy eyes and her shaking hand, he wouldn't have thought much if he had walked in on this any other time. "I could clean that up for you," he offered.

"I got it."

 _Swoosh, clink_. He smirked when Natasha's next piece hit the bag in the trash can and rattled another one that was already at the bottom. "Nice of you to let Bruce help you," he tried next.

"You told me to pick a side of the fence," she answered with a shrug before she tossed another piece, then she cleared her throat again.

So he had, but he hadn't imagined she would take that statement to heart the way she had, it was actually fairly impressive. He let it go, "Forgot to say thanks, by the way, for going and bringing him back."

He watched her glance around for any other pieces that might be left, but when she found none, she made an attempt to drag herself back to her feet. He realized now she probably never actually cared about cleaning up the mess, she just hadn't wanted to get up. He stepped in, got his hand under her elbow and gave her a small pull. Natasha leveled him with a rather unhappy expression, but he hadn't been stabbed for it, so that was a bonus.

"Curious, if you're Bruce's friend, and I'm Bruce's friend, does that make us friends by proxy?"

The odd look that crossed her face in that moment actually made him laugh.

"Well, I say we are," Tony added next and she was definitely glaring now. "And as your friend, I feel I should say that you look like shit."

For a moment she didn't react at all, then she laughed, and then she coughed. By the time he helped her over to the bed and she settled herself to sit on the edge of it, she had cleared her throat of the fit that had broken out and given him a rather amused expression, "You know, if I weren't such a confident person, then you, Pepper and Bruce might have given me a complex by now."

He grinned at that, "Bruce and Pepper said you looked like shit?"

"Pretty sure Bruce said awful. Pepper said crap, but that was when I first showed up here."

"Meh, well. Those two always sugarcoat everything," Tony added with a shrug, "And I thought shit was putting it mildly."

Natasha rolled her eyes at that, but she didn't seem the least bit offended. "I look like something somebody dug out of a grave," and that made him laugh.

"That's fairly accurate," he agreed.

"So I take it I made Bruce uncomfortable again?"

That gave him pause and he studied her for a moment. So that was why she thought he was here? "Not that I'm aware of," he informed her. Then again, Bruce had seemed a little flustered when he had seen him before, "Well, maybe...but just about everything makes him uncomfortable, so I wouldn't feel so bad about that."

It seemed to work, because she smiled a little at that. It was funny now that he realized it, but typically the best responses that he managed to get from Natasha, somehow involved his best friend. He never mentioned how much of their interactions he had seen, and he figured neither of them actually knew. He had seen more of her conversation with The Hulk after the Samara incident than he had let on, though he had just sat outside and let it go on until he thought it was over. It had been fascinating to see the usually hostile Other Guy sit on his rear end and _listen_ to what Natasha was saying, and she had been more open with him than anyone else he had ever seen.

Except for maybe Clint, since she had allowed the man to practically share her bed with her even when she couldn't figure out right from left, but even that relationship he couldn't quite put his finger on. It wasn't romantic, he knew romantic, but there was something deeper between those two that he wasn't sure he would ever truly understand. However, he had seen Natasha around Clint, he had seen her around Steve, around Thor, and two of those people she seemed to consider friends. It didn't change the fact the she was quite different around Bruce himself.

The differences were subtle, but they were there. He had come across moments where the two of them were talking, although he always went back on his merry way without interrupting. They were, in fact, two of the most closed off people he had ever met in his life, but they talked to each other even if it was just little bits and pieces. Bruce never spoke of the past to Tony himself, and yet he had heard the man tell Natasha bits and pieces, however small or large they had been. Just as he had heard her say things to Bruce, even if sometimes what she said didn't entirely make sense; or at least didn't make sense to Tony.

Still, the most impressive thing had been when she convinced Bruce to _leave_ the tower and go out, even though it had ended horribly, it was something neither he nor Pepper had ever managed to accomplish. That moment where she had shouted 'Code Green' over the phone at him had been one thing he never forgot. She had told him where, then a moment later he had _heard_ the impact of her hitting that brick wall and the sharp gasp that she made as she hit it. He had honestly been afraid she would be dead before he ever got there, regardless of whatever bond she had formed with The Hulk.

She proved Tony wrong, of course, like she had with many other things. The truth was, her wariness about this friendship with Bruce wasn't entirely her fault, his awkward friend had brought it on as well. The original comment of someone like her not being good around him, and when she offered her friendship and help to him before he ran away to India. He supposed that from Natasha's viewpoint, Bruce had turned her down flat by making that escape.

"You alright?"

It jerked him out of his reminiscence and he glanced down at Natasha before he took a seat on the edge of the bed, though he did keep quite the distance between them. "You make him uncomfortable because he likes you," he finally told her.

"Friends typically like each other," she added dryly and he rolled his eyes at that.

"Not what I meant," and he was pretty sure she already knew that, "You're not dumb, Natasha, so don't play it."

She coughed, it was straight from the lungs, and his own chest hurt just hearing it. "I'm used to that," she finally stated, voice still a little raw from the cough. "It complicates things, but... he'll get over it," came her next comment.

Tony honestly hadn't expected that to be her answer, though admittedly, he hadn't expected her to really reply to it at all. "He doesn't tend to get over things, in fact, you and I both know he usually just dwells on it for a lifetime or two," he reminded her. He watched as she looked over at him again and it would seem he had just made the infamous Black Widow a little uncomfortable, "I'm sure it wasn't your intention but you're sort of growing on him, Natasha." She gave no answer and this was one of those moments where he just wanted to smack some sense into her, "He turned all red in the face when I asked if you flirted him back to the tower."

"He'll get over it," she assured him again.

Tony wanted to roll his eyes, because that was the same thing she said about sneezing on The Hulk, but she sounded pretty certain of it and it threw him off a little. "What makes you so sure?" he finally dared to ask.

The answer definitely wasn't what he expected, "They always do." He supposed it was a fair enough statement, he had seen her files, browsed through them but never thoroughly going over them. Snooping was sort of his thing, and she likely already knew that. Natasha Romanoff and her many former aliases were just a fleeting thought and memory in the lives of many people, or at least, the ones who lived to remember her. She was good at being a wisp in time, something that was there, but went away as though she never was. She was a lasting impression in many ways, but not in the way of past lovers or romantic interests, she was a ghost in those regards.

The little bullet notes on her from when she first joined SHIELD, things that he supposed shrinks and doctors had put down in her file, still stood out quite well in his mind.

 _Subject: Natalia Alianovna Romanova  
Age: 20_

 _-Assassination  
-Espionage  
-Seduction  
-Infiltration  
-Apathetic  
-Indoctrinated_

The first four had been Natasha's basic skillset for the KGB, and then for SHIELD, the last two he concluded were one worded notes from whom he assumed were psychologists. That last one had always set him a little off-kilter with her, but not so thoroughly until the incident in Samara a few months back when she had very nearly been forced into it all over again. Seeing the effects of the attempted 'Re'indoctrination had been the moment where he finally accepted that who she was, the way she was, it was all for good reason.

All that considered, he still didn't think she was right about this particular circumstance, because around Bruce, she was less apathetic and more empathetic and it was the only other reason he had actually started to grow fond of Natasha. Not enough people bothered to see past the monster that lurked inside the rather mellow scientist that he had befriended easily enough, and not a single one ever dared to take most of the liberties that the woman next to him had, not even himself; though he certainly pushed some of the boundaries when he got the opportunities to do so.

Tony heard the main door open and he could tell that Natasha noticed it too. Her hand had inched under her pillow for a brief moment before she eased it back onto her lap with nothing to show for the maneuver. He knew it had been a reflex for her to reach for whatever weapon she likely had hidden beneath the pillow, but that did add to the uneasiness he felt when he saw her do it. Apparently even in his tower, where she was likely as safe as humanly possible, old habits died hard.

"He doesn't have to get over it, you know?" Tony questioned quickly. He watched her eyes as they shifted from the bedroom doorway to him, but if she agreed, he couldn't tell one way or the other. He gave her a nonchalant shrug as he stood up, "Just saying, whether he does or not is up to you."

Natasha didn't give him a reaction, visibly or verbally, but she was shivering after a moment. He pulled the blanket over her shoulders and thought he heard a mumbled, "Thanks..." as she pulled it tighter around her. He sighed as he walked out and met Bruce in the hallway.

"I don't see any stab wounds," came his friend's immediate joke.

"Still a few more hours in the day," Tony answered that with a false grin, and it was an effort to hide the conversation he had just had with Natasha from one of his only friends. He leaned over and took a whiff of the soup in Bruce's hands and at least that gave him a reason not to bring it up, "Good God, you're not actually going to feed that to her are you?"

Bruce rolled his eyes at the comment, "She ate it this morning."

He whistled and blew out a breath of disbelief, "She's a better woman than I."

His friend was giving him a rather dumbfounded look. "Well, you have the wrong anatomy to be a better woman than her," Bruce deadpanned.

Tony snickered at that but the next fit of coughs in the other room resounded and he moved aside for Bruce to head in there, "Have fun." The reality was, he was pretty sure had had just made this more uncomfortable for them by acknowledging to Natasha that he had noticed. He was going to have learn to keep his mouth shut around her a little bit more.

* * *

It wasn't that she hadn't noticed Bruce's reactions to her on occasion, it was just something that Natasha had chosen to ignore. She was trained to notice the reaction she had on people and she wasn't so pathetic as to not know that she was the type of woman to draw attraction without any real attempts at it. It was, however, a bit of a surprise when Bruce had shown the signs. He usually seemed rather indifferent around her in the beginning, a little flustered by her occasional stunts of being half-dressed, but nothing more. It wasn't until she showed up in Bahir to tell him to come back to the tower that it really made an impression on her.

It was mostly little moments like that, that she hadn't put too much stock into, not until there was that moment earlier where his heart had been racing. The truth was, she was a little unsure of what to do about it, because telling him she knew was definitely not going to work in her favor, and backing off even a bit would likely make Bruce think she was ending this semblance of a friendship they had only just now formed.

With Tony and Bruce talking in the hall, she had a few moments to think it over and come to a conclusion; the conclusion being that she had somewhat lied to Tony. Yes, Bruce's new attraction to her _did_ complicate matters, but it also worked in her favor, and her life of training in these matters came to a more rapid process of it all.

The attraction was more of an advantage than it was a drawback, mostly because she was approximately ninety-eight percent certain that Bruce wasn't nearly forward or bold enough to make a move on her. Loathed as she was to admit it, that microscopic and sudden interest in her on a more-than-friendly manner would actually help them get closer. It was horrible to turn Bruce into some sort of mission like that, but it was the easiest way she could process this entire fiasco, at least without having it turning into a spectacular failure at both friendship and trust.

She was more inclined to keep his friendship and manipulate whatever feelings he grew for her into something that would work out better in the long run. That was the thought that left a sour taste in her mouth and almost instantly the violent fit of coughs decided to ruin her moment of being alone and left to the inner-workings of her mind.

It brought Bruce into her room and into a sitting position beside her that was much closer than Tony's had previously been. It took another moment for her to notice that something was being held out in front of her, and then another before she took the offending object into her own hands. She took a sip from the glass of water and caught Tony's eye as he glanced in from the hallway, then she watched as the billionaire disappeared altogether. More bridges were going to be burned if she screwed this up.

"You alright?"

Natasha glanced over at Bruce when his words finally invaded her senses and she gave him the barest of smiles. "Sure..." it was a bald-faced lie, but he didn't seem to notice, or maybe he was just ignoring it.

"Still cold?"

"Freezing," was her honest reply.

He handed the bowl of soup over, "Maybe this will help."

She took traded the water for the soup without hesitation, and even took a few hated spoonfuls.

"I was thinking that besides this, there are better ways for us to work on the whole friendship thing," came his next comment. That hollow little pang hit her again, but she said nothing of it and merely gave him a curious glance. "You talk to me, I talk to you," he offered up a bit hesitantly. "No matter what, and we're honest with each other," and that made it _so_ much worse, "What do you think?"

The make or break moment was right there. Manipulate the feelings, hope it works out, or tell him the truth, and ruin the friendship before it even really got to start.

Ruining the friendship would wreck her chances of ever helping him.

Manipulating the feelings had equally as unpleasant side-effects and outcomes.

But manipulation also held the best chance of success.

"Figure you can answer that by answering this..." She wasn't sure she was ready to start _now_. "How's the soup?"

 _Moment of truth_...

"Tastes like shit..." Natasha figured she was screwed either way, so she might as well try to get somewhere with it.

Bruce gave her a rather endearing shit-eating grin in response, "Well, that's about as honest as it gets."

"You asked..."

"So how do you really feel?"

Well, he wanted honest, "About as shitty as the soup tastes," but she took a few more spoonfuls anyways.

Bruce laughed at that, "Well... glad you're eating it regardless of that minor detail."

The chill that coursed through her now, courtesy of the ridiculous fever, shook her hands and Bruce's settled over hers to steady them before she spilled it. Then there was the matter of that racing pulse, she could feel it immediately and she quickly removed herself from that situation by putting the bowl in his hands.

Freezing was putting it mildly, and she had half a mind to try her shower stunt again, though it hardly helped her feeling any semblance of warmth the last time, so she shoved the idea to the backburner.

Instead she just laid down and tucked herself into the covers and wished the chills away. Apparently, the flu cared nothing of your nationality; Natasha was Russian, she was used to the cold, it never bothered her.

Being unable to shake the cold feeling made her want to strangle somebody.

"I'll go."

She shot her hand out and grabbed his wrist before he ever got the chance to move and she felt that pulse racing again and it was a horrible thing to ask, but she was _freezing_ and the words came out before her brain told her it was wrong, "Could you stay?"

Bruce looked well and thoroughly confused by the request and it seemed to take his genius mind a moment to comprehend what she actually meant. Eventually his IQ came to his rescue and shoved the meaning into his head because he got a little flustered.

"Nevermind..." she added quickly, she _never_ should have asked that.

It was clearly too late for take-backs, because Bruce put the bowl of soup down on the end table and awkwardly maneuvered himself over to her side, and she was just cold enough to take advantage of that. She shifted more towards the center, tugged him further into the bed, and then pulled his arm over her as she laid her head on his chest.

Now his heart was pounding in her ear, but she'd be damned, she was warmer.

He was quiet for a bit too long before he finally spoke, "Um... b-better?"

"Yes..."

Chills-wise anyways. Now she felt terrible for completely different reasons. And she felt not just worse, but also weirder when she realized that at some point, she had fallen asleep. When she slowly blinked her eyes open and saw the clock over his chest, it read _12:03am._

Bruce had never left.

He had let Natasha use him for body warmth for the last nine or ten hours that she slept. That was the part that made her feel worse, and when she glanced over at him, he was fast asleep.

The part that made her feel weird, was the part where she hadn't dreamed or had nightmares, not even the smallest of them whatsoever. There was nothing good, although there was never anything good, but nothing bad either.

It was the first time she ever slept so long and the first time in her life that woke up feeling somewhat rested.

And that rattled her to her core, because now she felt like maybe this manipulation into friendship was going to be less of a manipulation. She was never _that_ comfortable with someone before in her life, and she quickly disentangled herself from him and inched as far to the other side of the bed as humanly possible. There wasn't really an escape for her. It was _her_ bed.

This wasn't good at all.

It was a web of her own design, except she caught herself in it rather than the intended target and she should have ended it, but now it was too late. Natasha turned her back to him just in time, because she knew that he woke up when the air shifted with his sudden awareness. She closed her eyes in an instant, felt his eyes on her back for a minute, and then he awkwardly vacated his place on the bed after he wrongly deemed that she was still asleep. She listened to his footsteps as they retreated and she didn't move until she heard the main door of her personal space open and close.

The breath of relief shuddered through her in an instant.

Now she would just have to pretend none of that ever happened and that was something she knew she could easily do.

* * *

 **Hmmm... uh-oh. Some plans backfire spectacularly, don't they?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note** : I was away for the weekend for my sister's birthday, but I've returned now after many drunken adventures at the casino(They had an Avengers slot machine, drunk me found it entertaining for TWO hours straight, and the Iron Man bonus liked me, I won $180 on it.) Cheers!

Prepare yourself, I'm gettin' real in this one, haha.

 **Chapter 16** :

It only took a measly three days after the night where Bruce stayed with Natasha in her bed, and then it was as though she had never been sick to begin with. Her color had returned, or rather, her usual paleness was back in place. Oddly enough, she had only been a bad patient in the most mediocre of ways after the first twenty-four hours of her flu. She never attempted another shower debacle at least, she ate his 'shitty' tasting soup without complaint but most importantly of all, neither of them said a word about the fact that he spent nine and a half hours in her bed.

Admittedly, he spent about three fourths of most of that time trying to think of any number of other things _besides_ the woman who had been cuddled up to him.

And really, who would have thought that Natasha Romanoff was the 'cuddling' type?

Still, he chalked that up to the fact that she had been under the influence of a rather high-grade fever, nearly to the point of being dangerously so if it had ever gone any higher than it was at that point. His first instinct when she had asked him to stay had been to _run_ about as fast as humanly possible. That oddly 'un-Natasha-like' trust had been his only reason not to run for the hills. She hadn't wanted to ask it, he could tell the moment the request had left her lips and she had tried to take it back within seconds of asking it. Secretly, he wondered if her supposed agreement to his suggestion of honesty went out the window with her fever.

People weren't always in the right mind-frame when they had fevers of her caliber and he had seen many effected people do worse than her shower stunts and ask for stranger things than Bruce in their bed. Even so, she had been quite the adorable sick person, and adorable wasn't a word he ever thought he could associate with Natasha. Puffy eyed, red nosed and she had looked at him with such an uncertain face, taken his hand, and asked him to stay. It felt more than a little wrong, because she was asking him to be her friend when he was having more than friendly thoughts at times. She was either the most oblivious person in the history of the world, which he knew she wasn't, so that meant that she was blatantly ignoring it. For that, he was eternally grateful, at least it meant she still wanted his friendship.

She was willing to overlook Bruce's new found and ever growing fondness, which meant that he was going to have to figure out how to do exactly the same thing. He needed to get past it, and the nightmare last night sort of shook some of it loose. It had been a while since he had one like that, but he supposed having been so close to her a few nights ago, it erupted again for that very reason.

The feelings rehashed themselves and became that became much harder to ignore the moment he walked into the lab.

He saw her the second he was in the door.

"Shouldn't you be doing this?"

"I'm checking the readings, just fire when ready, Romanoff."

Bruce stared with his mouth slightly agape.

Tony stood at the computer with safety goggles in place over his eyes.

Natasha stood at Tony's make-shift firing range(and when the hell did he even have time to set that up in the last day?) with an uncharacteristically large Iron Man gauntlet attached to her hand. She looked hilariously out of place, wearing a pair of safety goggles to boot, and any number of men who practically lived in labs would have found her the definition of attractively geekish in this moment. He couldn't really push himself out of that category, which was even more embarrassing than his already unwarranted attraction to her.

"Would you shoot something already?" came more of Tony's pestering.

"Keep that up and I'll shoot off your manhood, Stark."

"My dear Pepper would never forgive that."

"I think she'll thank me in the long run."

Bruce glanced over as Pepper came and stood next to him with her hands on her hips, "They've been bickering like this for hours," she explained with a shrug. "Honestly, it's sort of refreshing watching her put him in his place in his own lab," she offered up with a rather innocent smile, "I like her."

He chuckled a little at that. "Me too, she sort of has that way about her..." and then he thought more about what she said, "Hours?"

"Mmhmm," Pepper acknowledged with a sigh. "Tony's been trying to find the kinks that she keeps using to override Jarvis, she's been showing him how she does it."

"Really?" That seemed a little odd, though the two seemed to be bickering in more of a friendly sense than anything else, it had been more or less that way since he had come back. It wasn't that they were _un_ friendly before then, but now they just seemed more on the same page, and it had him more than a little curious.

 _BOOM._

He winced and watched as Pepper jumped a little when Natasha blew a hole clear through the wall, the wall behind it, and just enough to singe the wall behind that one. He almost laughed when the two of them, at the exact same time, pulled their safety goggles to the brims of their noses and studied the hole with equally awed expressions. Truth was, he was far too used to Tony blowing stuff up in the lab to be effected by it any longer.

"Maybe a little too much oomph," Tony mentioned.

"I thought it was supposed to have 'oomph'," she was yanking the giant gauntlet off her arm and glancing around as she pushed her safety goggles on top of her head. Bruce noted that she was at least a good two and a half feet back from the position she had originally been standing in. The impressive part was, she had kept on her feet and he hadn't even noticed that the force had driven her back until he saw her staring at her own feet with an eyebrow quirked up.

Tony rolled his eyes, "Oomph, yes, but that was _oomph!_ "

She walked up to the table next to Tony and rolled the shoulder of the hand the gauntlet had been on, "I'm failing to see the difference, I'd think it was preferable to pack more oomph."

Bruce smiled a little at the comment, caught Pepper staring, and quickly wiped it off his face. Thankfully, Pepper seemed willing not to mention it, "She's different than when she first showed up, you know? I think that incident with you and her in the city rattled her a little more than she let on."

"Why do you say that?" he dared to ask. She didn't seem all that bothered, but then again, it _was_ Natasha and he hadn't exactly been around for a while after the incident. It certainly still rattled him. Other than leaving and running back off to Bahir, and then coming back here, he had never gone anywhere else in the two months.

Pepper frowned a little, "It was her reasoning for helping Tony with Jarvis' vulnerabilities. She said if she can bypass Jarvis, it means that guy who attacked the two of you can as well," she paused for a moment as she glanced back over at the two of them as they inspected the crater in the walls, "She said they had the same training, anything she was capable of doing, he was too, and that's disregarding the ten years that she hadn't thought he was even alive." That was unsettling, and clearly Pepper thought so too, "If Natasha's worried about it, we all should be, in my opinion..."

She was right. Pepper was a little too intuitive for her own good sometimes. "Given that him and Ross seem to have disappeared off the face of the planet, I'm equally as worried," he admitted. "She thinks he'll try something again?"

"She hasn't said," Pepper admitted, "But I imagine she must if she's helping Tony with security upgrades. They've been slowly doing more and more upgrades since you left."

"Since I left? That long?"

Pepper gave him a weak smile at that.

"And Tony is still alive?"

That seemed to have veered the topic for the better, because Pepper gave him a real smile now, "Yeah, I'm impressed too."

"Well, fun as that was, did you upgrade the laser grid?" came Natasha's next comment.

"Mmm, though really, who besides you can actually fit into the duct-work?" came Tony's question. Of course, he followed it up with something that had Pepper shaking her head, though more in a sense of wonder than disbelief, "And _how_ do you do it with that much junk in your trunk? Really, it astounds me that you're as acrobatic with your martial arts as you are."

 _Oh no..._ Bruce expected the worst after that comment and he cringed a little as he waited. Instead, Natasha used the the gauntlet still in her hands and smacked Tony on the back of the head, "Next time, I fire it."

To Tony's credit, the man didn't seem to doubt the threat, but it also didn't stop another comment, "Your junk is off limits, understood."

Even more surprising, Natasha reacted no further except to put the gauntlet down on the table.

Pepper just gave him a small smile, a shake of her head and a tiny wave before she left the lab, with her parting words, "With her in the lab too, I think I may need to increase the expenses budget aside for his knack for blowing it up," he grinned at that as he finally fully entered the lab. He had a feeling Natasha had known he was there and Tony was never one to be surprised when Bruce showed up at the lab. While Natasha just gave him the smallest of smiles, Tony did, however, look a little uncertain about whatever he had just walked in on.

"No offense, Tony... but that gauntlet is a little bulky," Bruce informed his as he took a seat at his own desk. He could see Natasha giving his friend an 'I told you so' smile and Bruce felt his own smile quirk up at the sight of it.

"It's _supposed_ to be bulky, you two are ridiculously shallow when it comes to my battlewear," Tony huffed out in dismay.

"He calls it the Hulkbuster," Natasha informed him as she dragged a chair over to him. Within a few moments she ceremoniously took a seat and her feet lifted up onto his desk, one crossed over the other.

Bruce stared a little uncertainly at her, "The Hulkbuster?"

Tony rolled his eyes, "Please, _she_ calls it The Hulkbuster. I call it Veronica."

"That's because you're a prick," came Natasha's immediate retort.

Bruce really thought he should be upset or maybe even surprised, but when it came to Tony, he honestly couldn't find it in him most days. He expected shameless things like that from his friend, it was actually what he liked about him, Tony wasn't afraid to do things like that around him. "It's alright," he insisted, watching as Natasha's rather defensive glance shifted over to himself with a bit of disbelief. "It's his way of being sentimental," he insisted.

Natasha gave him a rather wry smile at that, "His sentimentality is twisted."

"Uh, hello, I'm right here," Tony called out with an exasperated breath.

Bruce chuckled a little at that, "So—dare I ask what brought about this latest invention?" To Natasha's credit, she actually looked a little uncomfortable and he figured he knew why, this armor was obviously in case of another chance of a 'Harlem'. "I'm not upset," he insisted, "I'm actually a little relieved... but also curious."

"Well, as much as I totally love the idea that Red here wants to sing the Jolly Green Giant a lullaby and bring back my favorite genetic experiment in scientific history, I felt like there should be a back-up plan," Tony stated with a casual shrug. "You know—just in case she sneezes again," he quipped.

Bruce couldn't resist an actual laugh at the end of that explanation, especially not when Natasha was rolling her eyes, something that Tony seemed to bring out of her more than anyone else ever could. He remembered overhearing the pilot that had been aboard the quinjet when Iron Man had joined Steve's brawl with Loki in Germany, that Tony's arrival had been the first time he had ever seen Natasha so much as bat an eye at something, let alone 'roll her eyes'. Given that he also heard that Tony overrode the loudspeaker on the quinjet to play 'Shoot to Thrill' and asked if she missed him, he didn't doubt the validity of that for one moment, "Can't you just pack the same amount of punch into one of your normal suits?"

"I _could_ ," Tony agreed, "But I don't think I want to test how well my armor would hold up with a very angry green beast beating the holy hell out of it, not when I'm inside it."

"Fair enough," and he watched as Tony tapped a few buttons on his screen and then his eyes shifted over to watch as part of the wall shifted over. The suit of armor that sat behind it(minus one gauntlet) was Hulk-sized and _really_ that seemed a little further on the 'better safe than sorry' side of the fence than Tony usually exhibited. His friend was typically on the wrong side of that fence, "Wow... that's really going to cut into your figure."

He watched Natasha's lips as one side instantly slanted upwards into a tilted smile. It was one of those ones he was enjoying the sight of more and more, and of course, that brought his nightmare back into his mind's eye in an instant. It must have been obvious, at least to her, because he watched as that amused expression faded to nothing as she studied him. She gave nothing of her suspicions away to Tony, and for once her face being the epitome of neutrality was something he was grateful for.

Bruce chose to continue the subject of Veronica. "So, you want me to go on team missions, and if Natasha can't talk the Other Guy down, you want to beat him down?" he figured he might as well be certain that was where this was heading.

"That's the gist of it," Tony replied.

"And you're just going to cart around that behemoth of a suit of armor in your back pocket?" he questioned sarcastically. Natasha's little smile made yet another appearance.

Tony huffed a little and leaned back in his seat, "Of course not, I'm going to shoot it up in a satellite so that there's instant access to it no matter where we currently are."

"Naturally," Natasha commented with the smile once again removed.

"You need to spend more time with me and less with her," Tony ordered him with a frown, "She's rubbing of on you. Your sarcasm is taking on a rather dark Natasha-esque vibe, I'm not feeling it."

"How are you even going to do that?" Bruce grumbled out in disbelief. "Who would actually let you shoot a satellite out into space with a giant suit of armor inside it?"

Tony actually looked a little offended by the question, "There are no problems my money can't solve."

"Can it buy you a smaller ego?"

Bruce barely held back his smile at Natasha's last comment, "You probably wouldn't have to pay them off if you told them it was there to beat me senseless."

"And there's the return of my favorite self-deprecating humor, thank God, I was afraid Natasha had completely rewired your ability to be funny," Tony clapped with a grin.

Still, the stupid nightmare wouldn't stop niggling at the back of his mind, and he could _feel_ Natasha's gaze on him again; and really, how did she seem to know each time it eased it's way back forward? She seemed to be willing to let it slide for a second time, and he supposed that if she hadn't been sick for a few days, she might have noticed them weighing on him since the night after she used him as a human heater.

Knowing Natasha, she may have very well noticed and chosen not to ask about it, maybe she was testing his end on the honesty-policy he had suggested. That in itself was even more disconcerting, because if this was a test, he knew he was failing it. He wasn't sure how to bring up the fact that she was plaguing his nightmares in casual conversation, and he wondered just briefly, if she had equally horrifying nights over what the Other Guy had nearly done to her.

Apparently, he stayed quiet too long, because now Tony also seemed to notice that something wasn't quite right, "You alright, buddy?"

Bruce couldn't stop the way his eyes shifted to Natasha momentarily before he cast his gaze downwards at the desk and he felt a little more uneasy than before.

"Think that's my cue that I've overstayed my lab welcome," Natasha said to nobody in particular. He saw her feet drop off his desk and he grimaced a little as she swiveled around on the chair and walked out of the lab. There hadn't been anything in her voice to give away the fact she thought she did something wrong, but he had learned lately that when it seemed like Natasha felt nothing at all, in actuality she was feeling much more than when she actually let people see her.

He could feel Tony staring at him now and his friend seemed over the teasing and more into the worried department, "Bad night?"

"Yeah..." he answered with a sigh as he rubbed at his eyes.

"About Natasha?"

"Yeah..."

Tony was quiet for half a minute as he seemed to debate his next words carefully, "You ever think it might help to just tell her about them?"

"And you think 'Hey, I dream that I kill you sometimes' is a good way to work on this friendship thing she seems so keen on?" Bruce questioned dryly.

It was exactly fifty-eight seconds before Tony dared to comment on that, "She likes you, I think she'd be grateful you told her rather than hid it from her." There was the barest of shrugs as his friend swiveled around and looked back at his computer screen, "All I'm saying is that for someone who has an insurmountable amount of walls to keep people out, she seems to let you through quite a lot of them." Bruce kept quiet at that, which Tony seemed fine with, since he apparently hadn't finished yet, "You know, I know she messed up a lot with her attempts to befriend you for a while, but you get her loyalty, and I think Barton will vouch that you'll have it for life. You don't want to be the one to screw it up now, especially when you didn't help it along much to begin with."

It was a fair lecture, and an oddly defensive one of Natasha at that, especially for Tony, "When exactly did you two become so close?" It was unusual for him to get so snippy with Tony, but between the recent string of worse than usual nights, he wasn't up for this.

"When I politely informed her that she needed to choose whether or not to be your friend and stick to her guns," Tony answered curtly. "Now I'm telling you to at least do her the same courtesy so I don't look like a jackass." _Well, crap..._ "You don't pry into peoples lives, but it's a specialty of mine, so I'm going to tell you this..."

"No," Bruce stopped him immediately, "That's not for you to go around telling people."

"Maybe not, but like I said, you don't get to turn around and do the things back to her that she told me she _wouldn't_ do," Tony warned him. "So I'm telling you whether you like it or not..."

"I said no," Bruce emphasized quickly, cutting him off once more. What about this was Tony not understanding? "If there's something to know, she'll tell me."

The silence after that was a little uncomfortable before his friend broke it again, "You seem pretty sure about that."

"I told Natasha if this friend thing was going to work better that..." and the realization hit him like a sack of bricks, Tony was manipulating him, he probably never actually intended to divulge any of the skeletons in the former-assassin's closet.

"As pretty much the only friend you've had until she came along, let me tell you a thing or two from my limited expertise," Tony finally added in, "You can't expect someone to tell you things when you aren't willing to do the same. You're the one who told me she wasn't a robot, she has feelings, and she's intuitive, Bruce. Natasha knows that whatever your issue is, it has to do with her," he extended on his lecture further. "I expected to have to warn her, she's not a very warm and fuzzy person, but I didn't think I'd have to warn you too."

Admittedly, Bruce didn't think he would have to be warned either, but apparently his social ineptitude was a booming success as per usual.

"And I have a date with Pepper, so I'll rest my case," came Tony's effort to put his case to rest. Bruce watched as he stood up from his desk and moved towards the door, but the next warning was Tony's clear attempt to lighten the mood, "And I better not come back to you touching Veronica, she's a one-man suit."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Bruce assured him with a weak smile. Tony was gone a moment later and really, he was a little off-center now that he had been thoroughly reprimanded by the one person who would normally never do so.

He actually heard Natasha's footsteps entering a moment later before he saw her, and he figured she used heavier steps on purpose so she wouldn't take him by surprise. "He's wrong, you know," she informed him as she came over to his desk and picked up the tablet she had left behind when she left before. "I don't expect you to tell me things you don't want to," she added next. "Honesty is one thing, but you respected my privacy and I respect yours too."

Bruce had absolutely no idea how to respond to that and he ran his hands through his hair as he heaved out a sigh. The words just wouldn't seem to come out, even though he knew he should just admit to the issue, a different question entirely escaped his mouth, "Why did you decide you wanted to be my friend?"

He could see she had been about to walk away, but she paused a little rigidly for a moment. Whatever the reason was, he could tell she was calculating whether honesty was really the best response, even when her face was devoid of anything of the sort. Finally Natasha blew out a small breath and reclaimed her vacated seat from earlier as she put the tablet back down on his desk, "The truth?"

"Please..."

The empty expression faded, and he supposed that was one of those many walls Tony mentioned she dropped around him. His friend was right, she did allow him quite a few more privileges than she did a lot of the others. She looked a little more wary as she finally answered the question, "I had this rather juvenile notion that I could help you somehow, maybe help you find the good in you, fix you." She leaned back in the chair and folded her arms, "But I realized after that nightmare in India that even though I could see it, you wouldn't, just like I can't find the good that Clint saw in me ten years ago." That actually left him with a pang of regret and guilt, especially after her next comment, "I realized that broken can't fix broken. You can't slap duct tape on people like us to fix the things that happened to you, or fix the things that I've done, the world just doesn't work like that."

It was the first time he really understood why she had backed off so suddenly after that night. It was one of the first times that the woman sitting next to him made complete sense and he felt terrible for not understanding before now. "Oh..." and it was a little funny in a rather depressing manner that she could say all this as though at didn't even matter, her voice had remained even and casual throughout the explanation, "So... why decide to be my friend anyways?"

Now she had tiny little smile gracing her lips and it made him feel just a little better, "You said I was your friend," she reminded him, "On the balcony?" He had nearly forgotten about that. "And I decided that I wanted to be, I don't need to fix you to be your friend, I just need to figure out how to be a friend when the person is nearly as screwed up as I am."

"Nearly?"

Her smile grew a little larger at that, "Trust me, people don't really get much more screwed up than me."

"We'll have a contest sometime to decide that," he offered with a meek smile.

Natasha's eyes and smile were a little softer now, "Deal." She took the tablet back in her hands and started to stand up. He grabbed her wrist, much like she had done to him when she asked him to stay the other night, and he watched her eyebrow quirk up a little before she once more placed the tablet down and re-seated herself.

"You want to talk about it?" she asked gently.

Gentle was such a foreign thing from her, but he saw it often enough at this point not to be so surprised by it. "We both have nightmares," he said quickly, but she didn't respond to that. Natasha just remained quiet and she didn't tell him to remove his hand from her wrist, "But mine—they're about you lately."

Bruce supposed he didn't really need to explain it, she looked like she already understood the meaning behind his words, and yet she asked anyways, "What happened in it?"

"I—the...Other Guy..." he quickly corrected, "But... me at the same time," he added in as he pulled his hand away from hers. "It's not even the Helicarrier anymore... it can be anywhere. That stupid Hulk-cell, the streets, the lounge. He just comes out, but I'm sort of there too," and he couldn't believe he was actually going to admit this to her. "You try to calm him down but—but he doesn't, he just—he grabs you, both hands... and he crushes you slowly. You look even more terrified than the Helicarrier...and you just...break. I can hear your bones break."

He expected her to look horrified, to want to run as far away from him as humanly possible, but she does neither of those. Natasha just gave him a rather sympathetic look as her hand covered his on the desk. "I get that..." she admitted softly, "Nights like that are the worst."

"You—have ones where he does that?"

She paused for a moment and she looked a little perplexed before she seemed to catch the meaning behind his question. "That wasn't what I meant but...not so much anymore. I used to, all the time," came her honest reply he hadn't truly expected. "Sometimes you need to face those fears head on if you want to get over them," she added with a smile, "I think I'm doing that pretty well."

"You're a little scary..." he admitted with a sad little laugh.

Her smile changed into a smirk, "I know."

"I can't get over this one..." he finally told her, "I've tried, I really have but... it came back the other night."

Natasha's amusement faded, "Is that why you haven't come near me much?"

He should have known she had noticed, sick or not, Natasha _always_ knew. "Yeah..." he blew out a breath of frustration, "A little hard to look at someone when you keep dreaming of murdering them."

"I know," came her unexpected agreement.

"You—you what?"

She hesitated now and he felt a small twinge of uncertainty about whether or not she was willing to take this honesty thing this far. Natasha seemed to accept that she _was_ willing to do so and finally her voice left her lips, but a hollowness was there he hadn't heard before. She was distancing herself from what she was about to tell him, and he wished he knew how to do that, "It's a lot easier to handle when your friends kill you in your dreams, those are ones I consider dreams," she told him. "I have ones where Clint kills me, exactly the way Loki told me he would," she admitted.

Bruce saw her eyes on the wall and he turned his hand over so his palm met hers. It was enough, because her eyes shifted from the wall to him and he saw them flicker with everything she was trying to lock up, "I can be the wall... for a little while."

Her wall just seemed to shatter when he said that, Natasha's face was such a mix of surprise and uncertainty, and apparently no one ever made an offer quite like that before. She gave him the saddest little smile, "You don't want that job, believe me," she half-joked. "There are those nights... but then, there's nights like what you saw on the jet."

"And that's... not the Barton kills you dream? Or the Hulk kills you dream?"

She shook her head at that, "No... not even close." She bit her lower lip and glanced down at his hand under hers before she seemed to decide she was willing to tell someone, "In the one on the jet, I kill him," she finally told him. "It starts the same as the other one, but—instead I decide _not_ to save him. I decide to take my knife, and drag it across his neck, and bleed him dry," and now she looked a little lost, but what she said next is when he understood why she hated it more than anything else, "And I smile the whole time... because I feel free. I feel like I don't owe him my life anymore now that I've ended his."

The silence between them was deafening and he knew that he needed to be the one to break it, so he tried to make it better, "You would never do that."

"I would, that's the problem," Natasha admitted as she ran her fingertips through her hair. "Ten years ago, without the mix of drugs he found me dosed with, I would have done it without a second thought," she explained. "If Nikolao and Strucker—if you and Tony hadn't shown up, I'd probably be trying to kill all of you right now, with that same sick smile. And I would enjoy every moment of it, because that's who I was."

"That's not you," Bruce tried to assure her, "I've seen you..."

"Pieces of me," Natasha agreed only a little, "But you haven't even cracked the surface. Tony was wrong about you before, but he was right that there were things you didn't know, but should."

He shook his head at that, "Who you were doesn't matter. That's not who you are now."

"When I was ten, I killed someone for the first time," and that shocked him into silence. "Another girl, she was twelve. Weak. I let her think we were friends, I shared food with her, and then I snapped her neck. And I was glad, I was proud," her eyes locked onto his, and he truly couldn't read her now, "I was the best." Then she gave him a rather unsettling smile, "See? That should make those bad nights a little easier for you."

 _Holy shit..._ "You can't possibly think that..." he said in disbelief. "You were a kid—and they stuck you in that chair, electrocuted you, warped your memories," Bruce reminded her, but she still didn't react, "That was never your fault... and even if none of those things led to what happened, it would still never make my 'bad nights' easier."

Natasha just sort of watched him, and he had a feeling she was just trying to remain shut off from all the things she had admitted to him. Honesty wasn't something she did very well, not that he did either, but it was her nature to lie, and she was going against her nature to be his friend.

"You matter to people, whether you like it or not, believe it or not," he told her. "And you matter to me, so—when I have those bad nights, they'll never be better or easier, they'll just get worse," Bruce sighed as he stood up. He reached out and gave her hand a light squeeze, "You already know that from experience."

He could feel her eyes watch him as he moved to leave the lab, but her voice didn't speak up until he was almost out the door, "Bruce?"

He dared to turn around and look at her.

"Thanks," at least this smile was more real than the last few.

"I'm around anytime you need a reminder."

And now her smile was real, "Dork."

Strangely enough, he found it a little endearing when she called him that, and he actually felt a little better too.

* * *

 **Mad feels in this chapter, no? :P**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note** : Here's some more fun for you guys. For new people and those who forgot, **MrsPanda** said Bruce/Nat seem a bit closer and more open than **AoU** depicted, and yes that's true, and they'll get closer still. It was voted back in Chapter 5 for that to happen rather than sticking strictly cannon. However, I will go into **AoU** at the end of this story and show how those scenes can still work exactly as they did in the movie by writing them out **;)** Also, I may add one or two additional scenes, since there's plenty of time that was never accounted for in between scenes of the movie.

 **Chapter 17** :

It happened again, and again, and again. Three more nights, the same nightmare, only a few varying differences and details; such as location and the _way_ that the Other Guy killed Natasha. He crushed her into dust with his hands in the first, he repeatedly slammed her against walls in the second, and in the third one he quite literally ripped her in half. That was the one that had him reeling the most because she _lived_ for minutes afterwards and _screamed_ the entire time, it's a scream that matched the one he heard from her on Tony's jet on their previous return from India.

"Jarvis...where's Natasha?"

"Miss Romanoff is currently in the training center, should I put in a request for her to come up?"

Bruce paused and actually debated saying yes to that, but he decided it was probably better to get dressed and give himself the walk to the training center to get a better grip on reality. Really, he just needed to see that she wasn't ripped in half and dead on the floor, "No, that's alright..." He rubbed at his eyes and took a few deep breaths before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and grounded himself on his feet. He tossed the sweatpants and t-shirt into the hamper, changed into black slacks and a brownish-red button down shirt and finally left the safety of his own mini-apartment.

He made the trip as slowly as possible and although he was certain that Jarvis would have mentioned Natasha being dead in the gym, he still couldn't leave the uneasy feeling at bay until he saw for sure that she wasn't. He wasted about ten minutes in a walk and elevator trip that probably should have taken maybe a third of that and when the elevator doors opened he realized she was obviously working out quite a few issues of her own.

As soon as he was inside he saw the flash of red hair as she darted around to Steve Rogers' left side, hit the wall at a jumping angle and used it to propel herself into the air, over top of him and onto his shoulders. It seemed Steve was caught at least a bit off guard by the maneuver because he went a little off balance and had to take a few steps backwards to try and ground himself.

Bruce walked a little further inside and leaned against one of the training dummies, watching as Natasha was forced to get a bit more creative to take the supersoldier off his feet. She slipped down so that she was practically sitting on his chest, got her ankles around his neck and then grabbed hold of Steve's legs and proceeded to pull his feet out from under him. He really wasn't sure, but from the look on the good Captain's face, he was somewhere between stunned and flustered by the awkward situation as he toppled over and landed with Natasha on his chest. Bruce actually chuckled a little when she folded her legs on him like a pretzel and then turned her head and gave Steve a wink.

"Told you I could take you down."

"Never doubted you for a second..." Steve grumbled and Bruce smiled and shook his head as the all too good mannered man did his best not to look at the perfectly shaped rear-end just inches from his face. "You always make this is weird as possible for me."

The throaty and teasing little laugh was one Bruce hadn't heard from her yet, but he supposed she had been friends with Steve longer, "Well, not all your enemies will be strapping, chiseled and male," she informed him as she slipped off the supersoldier and got to her feet. "Maybe strapping and chiseled...occasionally females have that quality," she explained as she held out a hand and pulled the still slightly embarrassed Steve to his feet, "And occasionally it's a good look for them, I know I can dig it. Like that girl working the front desk in the tower, she's nice, a little butch perhaps, but it's a good look for her. If you're into that, I can get you her number."

"Yeah... I'm busy. Plus she's got that ring thing in her nose," and Bruce decided that Steve obviously dealt with this from Natasha on more than one occasion, because he didn't look all that bothered by her suggesting potential dates for him.

"It's called a septum piercing, it's all the rage these days," Natasha informed him with a nonchalant shrug, "And you'd only notice that if you checked her out, Rogers, so were you checking her out?"

Steve, to his credit, tried his best not to react.

Then Natasha's eyebrow quirked up and this coy little smile took hold on her lips, "Besides, these days women are piercing weirder body parts than their nose."

"Like their tongues," Steve mentioned, scrunching up his nose.

She gave him the tiniest elbow to the gut, "Go lower."

"Uh... yeah, the belly button thing."

"Higher _and_ lower," she informed him.

Steve actually looked horrified and that was the moment where Bruce actually laughed regardless of the fact he was still horrified by his night. Only Steve and Natasha would spar not just with their bodies but with their words at five-thirty in the morning. While the resident supersolider, which Bruce wasn't even sure when the man had arrived back in the tower, gave him this ' _I've just been rescued'_ look, Natasha simply settled him with an easy yet knowing smile. She seemed to know he had come in here looking for her, and she seemed to know exactly why without even needing to ask.

"All yours, Doctor Banner," Steve told him and Bruce chuckled a little as he came towards him, "Appreciate the save."

He cleared his throat a little since saving Steve hadn't actually been an intended thing, but he gave him a weary smile anyways, "Uh... sure thing, Captain." Bruce watched as he left the room and he glanced over at Natasha and made his way over towards her, "So... you're into strapping and chiseled young people?"

It was a new one for him to try and tease her, and he knew it was a mistake when Natasha gave him a sly little grin and he felt his face burn a little when her eyes looked him up and down, "Awkwardly dorkish ranks right up there with them."

 _Oh, God..._ He pretty much begged for that one and he knew it, "Right... well..."

Natasha's hand settled on his shoulder and he almost jumped a little. "Rough night?" came her suddenly softer tone. He didn't have to say anything, she continued for him, "Same thing as last time judging by your face." Her fingers wrapped around his wrist next and she led him over to a bench and before he really knew what was happening, she was wrapping tape around his hands.

"Uh... what are you doing?"

"Sometimes you gotta work things out the old fashioned way, Bruce," she informed him.

That was disconcerting to say the least, "Yeah—no, not a chance." His attempt to pull his hands away was in vain, because delicate and dainty as Natasha's hands were, they were _strong_.

She glanced up with her face just two or three inches from his own and he found himself a little lost in eyes of not just green, but many shades of green, almost never-ending if you looked into them long enough. Her eyes always stood out in the contrast between them and her vibrantly red hair, but this was different, like many other things had been since she came back from wherever she had been with Clint. It was the first time he really took notice of qualities in her that didn't involve the fact she was deadly, that her entire body was a weapon, but she reminded him of it in this moment, "Sometimes, you can't always avoid the fight," Natasha informed him. "Given that you want to avoid the Big Guy as much as you can, maybe it's time to learn an alternative method to dealing with stress," came her suggestion.

"Somehow I don't think you're suggesting yoga..."

"No," she agreed with a smile. She ripped the end off the tape on one hand with her teeth, much to his dismay, then swirled the tape around his other hand. "Relax, you won't hurt me," she added with a knowing little smile.

Bruce frowned a little at that, "Thought never crossed my mind...and you don't think this is even close to being a terrible idea?"

"Not at all," she stated. Once again, she ripped the tape off with her teeth and patted it down, "So, you can punch it out, or face the fear."

"Face the fear?" he questioned, and he sincerely hoped that she wasn't suggesting what he thought she was.

Natasha _was,_ in fact, suggesting it. "We could go try a 'lullaby' as Tony started calling it in the lab the other morning, prove your nightmare wrong." Bruce was making a face of discomfort and he knew it just by her next comment, "Punching it out it is, then. We can try the fear facing later."

Bruce sighed at that as she pulled him to his feet, "What am I hitting?"

"Me," she said, and her voice indicated that should have been obvious. Again, he must have made a rather odd face because she chuckled, "Not _hit me_ , hit me," she assured him. "I'll put the training gloves on, you'll be hitting those."

"Oh..." Bruce wasn't entirely sure that was a better option.

"I promise not to hit you back, at least not this time," she tacked on with a smirk.

That actually made him laugh a little and he watched as she stood up and opened a locker a few feet away. It was near impossible to see what she was doing and he was left somewhere between disbelief and attempting not to laugh when she turned around with a pair of green training gloves on that he figured he was supposed to punch. She wore a rather innocent smile and he couldn't help his next words, "Really, Natasha?"

"There's a pair of green boxing gloves, too," she piped up as she tossed them his way. He fumbled them for a second before he got a good grip on them and he had to admit, it was refreshing to have someone besides Tony make light of his other half. "Embrace your true colors, Big Guy," came her next comment and Bruce couldn't help but laugh a little harder.

"You've you just been waiting to bring those out, haven't you?" his voice feigned annoyance but it was impossible to get away with it given that he was still wearing a smile.

"Hey, I didn't buy them, I just found them. Blame your science bro. Besides, you walked in and I just couldn't resist."

Bruce chuckled a little at that, "You're a terrible friend."

Natasha just grinned at that as she shoved him towards the boxing ring, "Well, beat the terrible out of me then."

He still couldn't quite make himself comfortable with this idea, even when he was in the ring and pushing the center rope down for her to get in. Her method of getting through the ropes was done in one of the most provocative manners he had ever witnessed. Bruce blew out of breath and forced himself to look anywhere _but_ at Natasha bent over in front of him. He supposed if he just told her that she needed to stop doing things like that, she likely would, but it was starting to turn into a new way to keep his heart rate in check.

Apparently, one didn't need yoga or other calming methods because with a woman like Natasha around, he was sort of learning on the fly how to breathe through it all. This was one of those lesser moments where he counted a rapid _thump, thump, thump_ of his heart and he took quite a few more breaths than usually necessary. He could see the quirk of her eyebrow as she stood in the ring and waited for him to stop leaning on the ropes and join her, "You alright?"

"Sure, yeah..." _Definitely not..._ Bruce couldn't help but think he was awkwardly out of place in a boxing ring and he watched Natasha put down the training gloves. A second later she was helping him get his own gloves on, "I still don't think this is the greatest idea..."

She just smiled, "You can't knock it until you've tried it." Once she had them adjusted the way she saw fit on his hands, she picked the stranger and rounded training gloves up and slipped them on, holding them up in the air, "And if you get uncomfortable with it, we stop. Simple as that."

"I'm uncomfortable now..."

Natasha smirked a little, "Just get over here and throw a punch, Bruce."

He supposed she wasn't likely to give up on the idea until he actually gave it a shot, so he stepped a little closer and glanced at his hands and then hers. Even he had to admit when he swung his right fist into one of her gloved hands that it was weak and pathetic, but Natasha made no mention of it, so he took a breath, released it, and swung the left next.

Bruce did it a few times in the same way, right, then left, right then left, before Natasha interrupted, "You can't always use the same pattern." He blinked at her a few times and she just shrugged, "Just saying, mix it up a little." He figured from a scientific standpoint, she was right. So he hit twice on the right, once on the left, once on the right, then twice on the left before her voice rung out again, "Now how about you actually put a little force behind it?"

This was the point where he actually couldn't help but mess with her a little, so he gave her his most defeated expression he could manage before he spoke, "I _was_ using a little force..."

Apparently it was effective because Natasha blinked a multitude of times in the span of seconds as she lowered the training gloves and stared at him.

He couldn't hold the straight face for very long, but they had the stare down for sixty-seven seconds before he finally broke out into a sheepish smile, "I'm just kidding."

"Well that's good," she muttered out before she smirked, "I was about to count you out as a lost cause." Bruce couldn't resist chuckling at her comment and then she started up again, "Now lay one on me."

And of course she had to word it like that, Steve said it best earlier, Natasha was a professional at making things weird for the men around her. The worst part about that was that he knew it wasn't entirely her fault. Given the title she earned with Red Room and the KGB, flaunting what she had was pretty much second nature to her and Bruce could only assume that it wasn't something she even thought twice about doing, even ten years after being out of their control.

So he gave the next punch a little more force and watched Natasha smile, "See? There you go." Bruce managed a microscopic smile when she grounded her feet for better form, "Keep throwin' 'em, Rocky."

Admittedly, it did _sort of_ work to relieve some stress, but he wasn't going to admit that to her.

* * *

Natasha sat up in bed and rubbed at her temples. She wasn't sure exactly what nightmare had plagued her tonight, she just remembered fragments and scraps of it. Blood and bodies and herself doing the dance of death through the crimson puddles painting the stage of Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow. That was enough to put her feet on the floor and she snatched her phone from the nightstand as she made her way into the hall, still barefoot, then onto the elevator and into the lounge after that. She wasn't entirely sure why finding Tony there at one-thirty in the morning surprised her but she sidled herself onto a seat at the bar beside him nonetheless.

She watched as he glanced over and looked her up and down, though she supposed she couldn't quite blame the flummoxed look on his face, she was barefoot in his lounge wearing black shorts and a navy blue tank top. He wasn't much better in plaid pajama bottoms, socks and a white t-shirt.

"Okay...women aren't supposed to be more attractive when they first roll out of bed," Tony commented as he pulled a bottle of vodka over top of the bar and passed it over to her, "Your hair isn't even messed up, that's not even humanly possible." He was giving her the stink-eye and she had a feeling he was already about as drunk as it got, "I knew it. You're an android."

Natasha smirked at that as she slid the cap off the vodka and took a swig, "I've seen weirder shit, I suppose."

Tony inclined his head a little to the side and she supposed he had seen the same 'weird shit' she had. Hell, she supposed that was probably one of the many reasons he drank so much. All the terrors that happened to him in Afghanistan, falling from giant wormholes in the sky, the Mandarin... he had enough demons plaguing him at night to coerce the drinking.

"Terrorists, aliens or...?" she let the question trail off there and took another swig.

Tony merely nodded and sipped from his glass, "Aliens today. And you?"

"Ballet."

He looked like he wanted to question that but he seemed to think better of it and instead he shrugged, "Never was a fan of that."

She smiled a little at that, "It's an acquired taste."

"Of that I have no doubt."

Natasha studied him for a moment as he swallowed the remnants of the drink in his glass and then refilled it with scotch, "If you're going to get wasted, you could at least do it on more than just one type of alcohol."

"You're trying to give me a lesson on drinking? I've been doing it longer."

She chuckled at that.

"Fine, get on the other side barkeep. Show me how it's done," he told her.

It probably wasn't the best idea to enable him but she understood the need to drink the nightmares away until you were far enough gone that they couldn't find you. It wasn't a method that worked so well for her, but maybe it did for Tony, so she slid across the top of the bar to the other side. "You talk about them?" she questioned as she pulled out several different bottles.

"With Pepper sometimes, Bruce other times," he answered.

She supposed that was better than nothing and she filled a large glass with ice. She began pouring a concoction of different alcohols meticulously and ignored Tony's eyes as they followed the movements of her hands.

"Were you a bartender in a previous life?"

Natasha gave him a little smile, "Not much I haven't learned to do, but you've read my file, so I'm sure you already know all about that."

Tony sipped at the scotch and nodded, "It's a good reminder that my life isn't so utterly sucky."

"You've taken your hits just like the rest of us," she reminded him as she put the two bottles down and mixed in another two at the same time as each other.

"What the hell are you making?"

"It's best not to ask, but it'll get you where you want to be."

"Fair enough," he conceded. Natasha topped off the four alcohols with a spritz of soda, stirred it with a straw, and slid it across to him. She watched him take a sip, give the beverage a dirty look, then give her one as well, "This tastes like horseshit."

She smirked, "Call it the Widow's Bite."

"Ouch... I can feel my hangover brewing just at the name," he quipped with a smirk, "You come up with this poison?" he questioned as he drank some more of it.

"No," she answered with a shrug, "Dead man did."

Tony snickered a little at that, "Suppose he deserved it, anyone who would create this swill clearly had a death wish."

Natasha gave him the barest of smiles at that, "He was one of the few that didn't deserve it."

"You kill him?"

"No."

His eyes were practically burning a hole in her at the answer she supplied him with and she took a sip from the vodka bottle as she waited for another question about it. It finally arrived after he sipped at his drink two more times, "So why's he dead?"

It was a stupid question, but she supposed he was drunk enough that there was no point in mentioning that, "Contrary to popular belief, not all the murders in the world were committed by me."

"Man names a drink after a woman, usually means there's something more between them," came his rather insightful comment. Natasha didn't disagree but she also didn't reply. "You loved him?" and she gave him a rather incredulous look, "That's a no. But he loved you?" He took a sip of the drink, studied her blank expression scrupulously and then shrugged, "And that's a yes. Unrequited love is a bitch." Drunk Tony was a bit too perceptive.

"Any love at all is a bitch," she informed him, "That's why I've never bothered."

Tony smirked at that, "Couple years ago, I would've agreed with you."

She raised the bottle of vodka up, "Well, here's to you being all grown up, Stark."

He grinned at that and clinked the vile drink concoction against her bottle, "Don't worry, another ten years and you can grow up, too."

"I'll pass," she told him with a roll of her eyes. They each took a sip of their respective drinks and she glanced down at her phone on the counter of the bar when it buzzed.

"Booty call?"

She snickered a little at that and picked it up, sliding her finger across the screen. Bruce's name came across with one word attached.

' _Awake?'_

Natasha replied with a little zigzag of her finger on the screen.

 _'Yes.'_

She flicked her gaze over to Tony and put the cap back on the vodka bottle, then took his empty glass from him, "Go to bed."

Tony gave her a rather unhappy look.

"The bartender is cutting you off, Tony. Go to sleep, unless you'd like to talk about the problem?" she offered.

"Yeah—no."

Natasha watched as he slipped off the bar stool and wobbled his way towards the elevator and she sighed as she slid back over top of the counter and snatched his arm to help him along. Her phone buzzed again.

 _'Busy?'_

She one-handed her next reply.

 _'Won't be in a minute.'_

Her eye twitched a little when Tony leaned down and rested his cheek on her shoulder but she remained stoically silent as they rode the elevator to his floor. She supposed he could have been worse than a cuddly drunk person, though that ranked pretty high on her 'most annoying type of drunk' list.

"Miss Potts is awaiting your arrival on the floor, Miss Romanoff."

Natasha chuckled at Jarvis' words, "Guess you informed her?"

"Indeed."

"Appreciate it."

"Of course, Miss Romanoff."

Sure enough, Pepper was standing there when the elevator doors opened and she was never more grateful because Tony, not-so-gracefully, stumbled over and gave the other woman a hug and a big slobbery kiss on the cheek, "Missed you."

It was all Natasha could do not to roll her eyes, but Pepper seemed to lack her willpower in that department. "Thanks for bringing him up, Natasha," came her grateful comment.

She waved that off and gave a meager shrug, "Not a problem. Besides, I might have given him the drink that sent him into Starkuddle mode, so—you know, sorry about that."

Pepper gave a small laugh at that, "It's alright. He would have gotten there by himself, I'm sure."

"You can grow up too, Red," Tony reminded her with a waggling finger in her direction.

She saw Pepper's odd face and couldn't resist the little smile at his childish antics, "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind, Shellhead."

Tony hooted out a laugh as the elevator doors closed.

"Jarvis, where's Bruce?"

"Doctor Banner is in his room."

She nodded a little at that and leaned against the back of the elevator as she waited to get to their floor. Once she arrived, she stepped off and went left towards his room instead of hers. She didn't have to knock and she assumed Bruce must have been tipped off by the AI because he opened the door as she stepped up to it.

"Hey."

He looked like crap, much like he had in the training center the previous morning, "Hey yourself... rough night?"

"The usual."

Natasha nodded her head a little at that before she stepped passed him and into the living room, snatching his arm as she did so, "C'mon."

She heard him swing the door closed and his question followed right behind it, "What are you doing?"

"I just dealt with Tony in the lounge, now I'm going to sleep."

She supposed she stunned him into silence for several seconds before he seemed to get over it, but his voice came out a little uncertain and weary, "Here?"

"You want me to leave you alone?" she questioned as she pulled him into the bedroom.

"Um..."

Natasha gave him the smallest smile.

"I guess you could use the bed, I'll go in the other roo—"

She cut that off quickly, "Bruce, are you an adult?" She watched him give an sheepish nod and pull a weird face at her question, "Well, I can share a bed without being handsy, and I'm sure you're a gentleman." His rather immediate gulp was easily noticed and she chuckled, "I'll stay on my side of the bed, scout's honor."

Bruce looked a little mortified by the thought but it seemed he was easily manipulated once more because he nodded along in the embarrassed manner that continually made her smile. He glanced back and forth between the left and right side, "Uh... do you have—you know—a preferred side?"

"I don't typically share," she informed him with a shrug, "I usually just sprawl in the middle, so it doesn't really matter."

She watched him nod again and climb in on the left side, so she lifted the covers of the right side and slipped in. Natasha turned so her back was facing Bruce and it was awkwardly quiet for several minutes before he spoke, "Natasha?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks."

"Sure thing," she replied with a yawn, "Sometimes it's easier to sleep with someone else around." She couldn't see it but she could feel him nod into the pillow. She didn't speak for a while but she waited quietly until she heard his breathing even out before she allowed herself to do the same.

Her eyes shot open at four-thirty in the morning when she felt an arm drape over her and a hand press against her stomach. Natasha was completely rigid and had to remind herself _not_ to try and kill him when she remembered exactly where she was. Another few seconds and Bruce's chest pressed against her back and she felt his breath tickle her neck, it took a lot of willpower not to make the most daring escape in that exact moment. She learned a long time ago how to escape from positions like this, it was just the first time where she wasn't sure if she wanted to or not.

The no nightmare thing was sort of nice.

The arm around her sort of was too.

That was the moment she made the choice. It took little to no effort after years of doing so, and she carefully extracted herself from his arm and his bed as she covertly and expertly left his quarters for her own. This wasn't good, it wasn't good at all.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) more to come soon.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note** : Alright, **MushySnugglybits** was right indeed. It's been over five chapters without anything too drastic! Ho'snap. Must be a miracle, right? Right?

Keep telling yourself that.

 **Chapter 18** :

Natasha couldn't figure out who was avoiding who at the moment. She didn't put any effort into hiding from Bruce, but she also hadn't searched him out since her escape from his bed two mornings ago, and from what she could tell he was doing much the same thing. It was only the fact that Tony was having a party for the sake of throwing a party that she saw Bruce peering through the crowd. She shifted her eyes elsewhere until she came across Steve's friend, and her replacement as his partner, Sam Wilson.

The poor guy looked hilariously uncomfortable against the wall by the bar when Pepper pulled Steve off to mingle. Natasha sauntered her way to him and she had to smile a little when his face switched from discomfort to relieved. "You look a little stiff, Wilson. Need a drink to loosen up?" she purred. He went from relieved to flustered, almost as much as Steve would get when she flirted aimlessly, so she grinned, "No wonder you and Steve are such good friends."

"Why?" Sam questioned, giving her a wary look.

"You both flounder when I flirt," she explained with a wink.

Sam smirked at her, "Ohh... is that what you were doing?" His tone held a teasing manner now and she chuckled, "You need to work on your flirting skills, that was a terrible pick-up line."

Natasha couldn't resist a laugh as she pulled a bottle of beer off a passing tray and handed it to him. Then she clicked her tongue at him, "Please, if I was picking you up then you wouldn't be teasing me, you'd be asking when and where."

"You're a dangerous woman..." Sam muttered with wide eyes.

She shrugged at the comment, "How's the hunt?"

He looked a little uncertain about the question, "Eh...just a bunch of dead ends. That guy knows how to cover his tracks right up until he makes his move. Then... he just up and disappears ago."

Natasha nodded a little at that, "Welcome to the spy games."

"Not a very fun game," Sam commented with a sigh.

"Not typically," she agreed, "And the stakes are high."

Sam gave a dark little laugh at that, "Yeah—life or death high, I learned that from you and Steve during that whole DC fiasco." He gave a small shake of his head a moment later, "At least you're out of the game, right? Steve said you've been staying here."

Natasha arched an eyebrow up at him slightly, "People on my side of the board don't escape the game. It catches up sooner or later."

Sam took a sip of his beer, "You really know how to lighten the mood don't you?"

"Well," she gave him her sauciest little smile, "I could lighten yours."

He blew out a breathy laugh and she chuckled when he shifted uncomfortably against the wall. "Alright, I'll take pity on you, Wilson," she offered with an easier smile.

"Oh good, then maybe you can tell me if I'm supposed to call you Natasha or Romanoff," Sam joked. "I hear you're more last name oriented, but I never got a memo on what to call _you_."

She smirked a little at the comment but was stopped from answering when Bruce appeared beside her with a drink held in her direction. She supposed it was a peace offering for their two days of avoidance and figured it was as much her fault as it was his, so she took it with a smile, "Thanks, Bruce."

"I stand corrected, you do use first names. How come you don't give _him_ a predatory smile?" came Sam's teasing question.

Natasha inclined her head to the side slightly before she gave Steve's friend a catlike grin, "I like him better than you."

She watched Bruce chuckle when Sam held his hand to his chest in mock-pain, "Oh, just ouch, my aching heart... You've hurt my feelings, Romanoff."

Admittedly, she probably did what she did next because she was still a little unsettled by waking up the other morning to Bruce making her the little spoon in his bed, and also the unforgettable feeling of sort of enjoying it. Natasha leaned in closer to Sam so her lips were next to his ear, "I could make that all better for you," she purred.

She pulled back so that she only left the bare minimum of space between them and smirked when she saw Sam's adams apple bob with a gulp. Steve didn't give her the chance to prey on his friend any longer because he pulled Sam out of her web by the arm.

"Don't torment my new partner, Natasha," Steve gave the teasing warning, "I still need his help."

Natasha gave him her most innocent smile as he dragged away a very flustered Sam Wilson.

"But she was—"

"Messing with you," Steve's voice insisted from a distance.

She chuckled a little at that as she shifted her eyes to where Bruce had been. He was gone and she had to admit to feeling a little bad when she glanced back at the drink in her hand. At least she had given Bruce the insight into her that he clearly needed.

She was a flirt, not something to be taken seriously, so that was one goal thoroughly accomplished.

"Why does my science bro look like a kicked puppy?" Tony's voice rang out from beside her. Natasha hated the thought that she sincerely missed SHIELD parties where most people never dared to come up to her. Socializing was a bitch.

She glanced to her left where Tony had taken up residence in Bruce's former position, then gave him a meager little shrug.

Tony narrowed his eyes slightly in disbelief, "I know you know something."

She still said nothing as she sipped the drink. She hadn't a damn clue what it was, but Bruce had good taste, it was bitter and sweet in the best ways.

"I know you know I know you know something."

 _Oh hell, really?_ Natasha rolled her eyes slightly at his childish statement and sipped the drink again before she finally spoke, "Put it this way, Stark. He's over it."

Tony's hand was on his forehead as he shook his head, "You two—it's like being on a damned seesaw. I thought you picked a side of the fence. Guess it's a little more in your nature to keep switching sides?"

That stung a little and though she wasn't going to show it, she _was_ going to prove a point, especially because she saw Bruce look up when he heard the words. She grabbed the lapels of Tony's dress shirt, yanked him down to her level and gave him a look that could kill as she lowered her voice for only him to hear, "I did choose and _you_ don't get to question my choices. But so you know, I chose the friendship side of this particular fence, I'm not capable of...whatever it is he's looking to add on to _this_."

The abundant smell of alcohol on him told her that he had enough in him to have gone to jerk-mode rather than the cuddle-mode of the night before. She released Tony and his shirt, smoothed down the ruffles she left behind, then put her drink in his hand and left the party.

She bated her time quietly on the railing of the roof for a while, sitting effortlessly with her feet hanging over the edge as she glanced at the city around her. Natasha stayed there well into the end of the party when she heard the footsteps behind her. They were familiar, but not familiar enough to be sure of who they belonged to, so she glanced back and watched as Sam emerged on the roof. He looked a little surprised to see her and she supposed he was just trying to make the same escape she had done an hour ago.

Her eyes followed him as he walked up next to where she was perched and he leaned on the railing beside her, "You have no fear. My ass would _not_ be sitting on that railing unless my wings were on."

She gave him a smile at that, "I like the view."

"You alright?" came his concerned question.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He gave a small shrug at that, "No one was really paying attention, but you looked like you were about to murder Stark before. Just thought I'd ask."

Natasha gave a small sideways nod at that, "Well, murdering him has crossed my mind on many occasions, that was just the closest I ever came to actually acting on it." She supposed her voice was neutral enough that Sam looked a cross between amused and horrified; he likely wasn't sure if it was a joke or not. "You and Steve staying for a while?" she questioned with a change of subject.

"For a few days," he answered. "I'm not complaining, I could use a break."

She didn't react much to that as she stared out at the city again, "Well...I'll never say it to him, but Barnes won't be found until he wants to be."

She felt Sam's eyes studying her though she knew he couldn't read her, "Speaking from experience?"

"Perhaps," she answered with a small smile. Something in her gut twisted a little and she shifted herself around and planted her feet on the roof as she glanced around.

"Something the matter?" Sam questioned worriedly.

Her eyes finally landed on the same set of stairs that Sam had used before. That's where she swore she heard footsteps, ones she _didn't_ recognize as belonging to anyone in the tower, but she _did_ recognize them. "You could say that..." she said quietly as she narrowed her eyes, "We're being watched." Sam's eyes moved to the stairwell just as she figured out where she knew those footsteps from. Her throat dried a little, " _Down!_ " she growled out just before Jarvis blared the alarms for an intruder in the tower.

She shoved Sam a few feet to the floor of the roof as the bullet whizzed past where he had been standing. The footsteps pounded against the cement roof towards her and she turned in time for Niko Constantin to get a grip on her hair and shove her back into the railing. Natasha didn't give him more than a second with the upper hand before she slammed her elbow into his jaw and slammed her foot square into his chest. He fell back easily enough and she slipped the knives from her sleeves to her hands as she pounced.

He grabbed her wrists just as she landed on him and she grunted when he turned the tables and her back slammed into the cement. Fortunately she didn't have to think of a counter measure for this one because Sam planted his boot into Niko's temple and sent the man sailing off her. Sam's hand grabbed her elbow and yanked her back to her feet and she gave him a grateful look.

"Who the hell is this guy?"

"Spy games," she reminded him of their earlier conversation. "Stairs, go!" she growled as she dragged him by the arm and yanked him towards their only exit. Natasha couldn't fight Niko fairly when she was busy worrying about someone else, especially not when it was Steve's best friend.

She never even got Sam close to the door before she felt Niko's presence behind her. She let go of Sam and turned in time to block the punch Niko threw with her arm. It seemed that he had expected that because his other arm snatched her blocking one and she hit the railing of the roof again with enough force to knock the wind out of her.

Niko didn't seem to expect her apprehension of his next move because when he lifted the gun towards her and side-stepped the knife she threw, she nicked the hand that wielded it with her second knife causing the gun to drop and skid to the side. It didn't stop the attack, but it certainly pissed him off because he was in front of her at the railing in a second, twisting her arm behind her back and trying to force her over the edge.

Natasha supposed that it might have actually worked if Sam hadn't interfered yet again. The other man pulled Niko off only to be shoved, quite literally, over the rails. "Sam!" she growled out. She reached over in time to snatch his hand with both of hers and the only reason she didn't slide over too was because she grounded herself with the railing. She got one leg curled around one of the metal posts as she took a deep breath. That same breath got caught in her throat when she heard the click of the gun several feet away.

There was no good choice in this moment. The wailing speed of the alarm matched the velocity of her beating heart and she shifted her eyes from Sam hanging from her hands to the gun about to put a bullet in her. She couldn't just let him go and let Sam die and she supposed it was better if they both died, because if she dropped him it was almost like murdering him herself.

"I thought you might be willing to die for the puny little scientist, maybe even the archer, Natalia. I never imagined you would do it for someone as invaluable as whoever he is." She shifted her eyes to stare at Niko as he circled a little more into her peripheral vision with the gun, "Let's see how far you'll go."

The shot rang out and hit the railing just next to her. She grimaced a little when the sparks flew off it and hit her right hand. It was just hot enough that her hand slipped a little and she had to tighten her grip, "Hang on, Sam..."

"Next one goes in your leg, then your arm, then your back, and finally your head."

Natasha didn't doubt any of that for a second and she saw Sam giving her _that_ look. The one that said to let go. "Not a chance," she told him before he ever got the words out. Someone had to be coming up here, right?

The person who did show up, was _not_ who she expected.

The second shot rang out and she just barely shifted enough to avoid the bullet to her thigh. Niko seemed too focused on her to focus on anything else.

She was wrong. "Looks like the puny scientist has arrived. Three is company Doctor Banner," Niko called out. "But four is a crowd, say goodbye to Natalia."

Natasha shifted her gaze to Bruce and she saw him running, it just wasn't where she expected. The gun fired, the bullet flew through the air towards her chest and there was no way to shift out of it's path.

She expected death but instead an unexpected feral growl sounded out. She hadn't even realized she closed her eyes until she opened them and stared at The Hulk. His arm yanked her further behind him as he turned in Niko's direction, which was at least useful in the endeavor of yanking Sam over the railing and back onto the roof. She heard him grunt and move forward, but it was a slow pace and his head shifted from left to right. When she peered around him, Niko was nowhere in sight. "You good?" she questioned to Sam.

"I'm alive...thanks for that."

She nodded a little and pushed herself to walk towards where Niko had been, passing the Hulk and moving towards the railing. She still had that clenching feeling in her gut.

Cautious or not, it didn't help because before she could react his hand came from under the railing, grabbed her ankle and _pulled._ Natasha's back hit the cement along with the back of her head and suddenly there was _nothing_ underneath her. She was flying or falling or _something_. The growling came just a second later and she felt pressure as she was pulled roughly against something, or someone. She got her senses back enough to realize it was The Hulk as his free arm dug groves into the building until they swung through one of the building's windows at least a dozen floors down.

She hit the floor rolling and it was a painful effort to catch her breath and even crawl onto her hands and knees. It took her a few more moments to hear the gasp from someone in the room over the blood rushing through her head and she took a dizzying look in the direction she deemed it stemmed from.

Pepper.

The other woman was wide-eyed and terrified as The Hulk snarled and reared towards her and Natasha barely managed to get to her feet and stumble between the two. Her breaths were a little haggard and she felt Pepper's hands grip and clench onto the back of her shirt when Natasha backed into her a little.

"It's alright..." she whispered as she shifted her head a little to Pepper. She saw the uncertain nod the other woman gave her in return before Natasha turned her gaze back to The Hulk, "Hey, Big Guy..." she offered the usual greeting.

She sincerely prayed that he wasn't still pissed about her sneezing on him right about now as she cautiously raised her hand up. Natasha shifted her other hand behind her towards Pepper and pulled the woman into a crouch with her, "Sun's gettin' real low..."

He looked pissed for a moment as he grunted and glanced around for any potential threats. Then he turned away and took a few heaving steps around the room. She waited until he turned back towards her with his enraged eyes before she turned her hand palm up for him to show that it was his move next. Natasha supposed the fear radiating off of Pepper wasn't exactly helpful, but telling her to run for the hills was likely a worse idea than keeping her crouched down behind her.

"Banner puny. Not Hulk."

Natasha quirked an eyebrow up in surprise when he spoke the gruff sounding words, mostly because she had never once heard him speak. "No... you're definitely not puny, Big Guy," she agreed with an apprehensive smile.

"Spider puny."

She was pretty sure the spider was her and she had definitely never been called _puny_ before.

"But strong."

Coming from a giant green rage monster, that was probably the best compliment she would ever receive, "Thanks, Big Guy."

He huffed and gave a rather angry looking grin, "Spider scares puny Banner."

Natasha actually chuckled a little at that as he heaved a few steps towards her and studied her outstretched hand. Ten words from him, that was practically a full-on monologue when it came to the Bruce's gamma radiated other half. "Mind bringing back puny Banner so I can scare him some more?" she questioned with a teasing tone.

His giant eyes squinted at her a little before he snorted with something that she associated with his idea of amusement, then he looked around the room again, his eyes landing unhappily on Pepper behind her.

"She's alright," Natasha insisted, "Bruce knows that, so you must too, am I right?"

The Hulk seemed like he didn't much care _what_ Bruce knew or thought and she supposed he really didn't.

"Alright well... _I_ know she is, is that enough?"

He huffed again and then relented as he plopped his hand upside down in her palm. She gave him an appreciative smile before she shifted her palm to his arm. He watched carefully as she repeated the motion from the street in New York, trailing her fingertips down as she slowly traced a path down to his hand. That was when he finally looked at her again. She stared into big brown eyes as her fingertips finally trailed across his own and he grunted, pulled his hand away with his hands on his head and took disoriented steps backwards.

Natasha took a second to remind herself to breath before she pulled Pepper to her feet, "You alright?"

"Y-yeah...that was—that was..."

"Terrifying?" Natasha supplied with a bleak smile.

"Completely...but it was amazing too," Pepper insisted. "I thought Tony was kidding when he said you could do that."

She shifted her eyes over to Bruce writhing on the ground and glanced around the room they were in. A living room, that fortunately, had a blanket draped over the back of a couch. Natasha quickly moved over to grab it before she moved next to Bruce and slung it over him, "Jarvis, is Niko gone?"

"Yes, Miss Romanoff. He used The Hulk's rescue of you as a distraction to make his escape."

"Scan the tower. We just got a bug problem."

"I'll locate and inform you of any audio and visual devices that may have been placed," Jarvis assured her.

Natasha gave a small nod at that, "Thanks." She glanced down at Bruce as she tugged the blanket around him more tightly. She never actually got a good look at him when he de-hulked and he looked like he was freezing and in pain. He was shivering, clutching the blanket and her eyes softened in an instant as she pulled him into a sitting position and put her arms around him. The guy took a bullet for her and then his angrier alter ego jumped off a building for her, a little semblance of warmth was the least she could do.

"I'll get Tony..." Pepper offered quickly.

"Okay..."

She glanced back down at Bruce and he had his eyes closed, forehead resting under her chin. He was making it ridiculously hard to stay on the friendship side of the fence, but Tony's biting words from earlier still stung, and Bruce deserved a lot more than whatever feeble attempt at _more_ that someone like her could manage. She sat there silently until Pepper arrived with Tony in tow who was still shedding his armor.

The pieces of the suit flew off to places she couldn't even fathom and disappeared as he made his way over. "You might want to get checked out, Natasha," he told her quietly as he crouched down beside herself and Bruce. "You're bleeding," Tony added as he reached his hand out to her face.

She narrowed her eyes and shoved his hand away, "I don't need you to worry about me, Stark."

He grimaced a little and she assumed he was probably angry enough with himself by his own comment before.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn't in a mood to placate him and make him feel better, "You can shove your suddenly bleeding heart up your ass and help me bring him to his room." It was probably equally as uncalled for as his comment to her had been earlier, but he didn't say anything as he nodded and helped her get Bruce to his feet.

Natasha could feel Pepper's eyes darting between the two of them with worry but she ignored it as she and Tony led Bruce to the elevator and past Sam and Steve who were waiting outside it.

"Natasha?"

She glanced over at Sam.

"Thanks again..."

Steve cut in before she could tell the other man to stop _thanking_ her, "You don't look that great, Nat... let me help Stark with Banner. You should—"

Natasha gave him a look that made his star-spangled ass shut up in a fraction of a second, "People need to stop telling me what I should or shouldn't do. It's making me volatile, Rogers."

To Tony's credit, he kept unbelievably silent as the elevator doors closed and they stood in the uncomfortable silence until they opened back up again. It only took a few more minutes for them to drag Bruce into his room and get him onto his bed. The awkward and tense silence between them was enough for her to finally take a little pity on Tony and his drunken comment. She pulled the blanket over Bruce and then looked over at the quiet billionaire, "You owe me fifty bucks."

" _What?_ " came his disbelieving response.

Natasha smirked, "His ass isn't nearly as bad as you kept saying it was."

Tony guffawed, "Are you saying you like Bruce's ass?"

She quirked an eyebrow up, "Jarvis, did I say that?"

"You did not, Miss Romanoff."

Tony gave a huff of a sigh, "Well, if Jarvis says so, it must be true." She watched him eye her suspiciously as she sat on the edge of the bed, "Natasha?" She glanced back over at him. "For what it's worth, I didn't mean that—whole switching sides thing earlier."

"Yes, you did," she disagreed with a shake of her head, "But it's fine."

"It's really not."

Natasha released a small sigh, "Alright, it's not. But _we're_ fine, okay?"

He seemed a little uncertain but he finally nodded, "Okay..." She could see him eyeing her warily again, "Are you sure that _you're_ okay? You got banged up."

"I'm fine."

"What I said earlier 'fine' or me and you 'fine'?" he questioned. She gave him a dirty look. "Right, forget I asked. You're staying in here with him then?"

"Yes."

"Right-o. Buzz if you need me, Jarvis has me on extermination duty, so...don't worry about that," he assured her.

She only gave a small nod in response.

The second he was gone she blew out a breath of frustration and winced as she lifted her shirt to glimpse at the formation of a splotch of deep blues and purples and reds on her stomach. She shook her head, dropped her shirt back down and scooted under the covers next to Bruce. Cuts and bruises were better than being a pancake on the sidewalk afterall.

* * *

When Natasha woke up she expected it to be much like last time. She figured Bruce would have once again made her into the little spoon.

He hadn't.

Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder, her arm was draped over his waist and her one leg was draped over him and tucked dangerously between both of his legs.

That wasn't why she woke up though.

Natasha woke up because Bruce's heart was pounding rapidly in her ear and for a moment she felt like he stopped breathing altogether. It was one of the few times in her life where she quite literally didn't want to open her eyes, at least she didn't, until that racing heart slowed a few beats and fingertips gently pushed some hair from her face to behind her ear. That was the moment she blinked her eyes open and looked at him.

He looked a little mortified to be caught after such an intimate gesture when he thought she was asleep, and now his heart was going a mile a minute again. It was actually endearing to realize that she wasn't the only one to find herself in an embarrassing position, because his hand was practically frozen in place just on her cheek, and she kept her eyes glued to his. Her next reaction was unexpected by both him and herself, because she saw his eyes flicker just briefly to her lips that were only an inch away, and her breath hitched just slightly.

All her training at regulating her breathing and her heart rate went out the window in one foul swoop. This time Bruce was the one who could feel her heart beat a little faster, and she couldn't get it under control, not in time to pass it off for something else.

Her chances of making it happen dwindled to nothing the second that Bruce stopped staring, and instead, he acted. His face moved that fraction of an inch towards hers.

All coherent thought left her the second his lips pressed against hers. Natasha was by no means innocent and she had been kissed many times for many different reasons. The fact was, no one had kissed her in such a chaste and simple way before, and it was an entirely new experience. She should have put an end to it, or moved away, or just done nothing at all to provoke it further.

That was what her brain told her, but it told her far too late. Her body reacted before her mind could tell her it was the worst possible thing that she could think to do, and that in itself was yet another new experience. Without thought, she coaxed the simple kiss into something more until his lips parted and granted her tongue the access it craved.

At some point during the kiss, she was no longer the one pressed onto him. By the time she really had a grip on what was happening, her back was pressed into the mattress and Bruce had one hand on her waist and the other tangled in her hair.

Natasha would be damned, but he was quite literally kissing her senseless and it would seem that she should have put much more stock into that two-percent chance that Bruce would be bold enough to act on his attraction for her. Right now, she wasn't entirely sure she cared that she had been wrong, in fact, her body was quite glad she wasn't right.

She had only just gotten one hand around his head and into his muss of dark hair when suddenly he pulled away and stared at her with a mixed expression between being ashamed and being absolutely terrified. And his eyes were _green_.

And then he was gone before she could think to stop him. Bruce took off like a bullet and she was left to lay there and attempt to catch her breath.

But she couldn't.

He left and that look of regret on his face left her a little uncertain.

As swiftly as she could, she dragged herself to her feet and left his room as well, but she only made it to the elevators before she was caught at three in the morning by none other than Tony Stark. She watched Tony's eyes glance from her and then to Bruce's room with concern, clearly having witnessed her escape, and looking as though he thought she might have just gone and done something horrible to Bruce in his sleep.

Something must have shown on her face though, because Tony stepped aside and allowed her to make her escape, and she was gratefully behind her own door within seconds. This had become a rather epic mistake, and she never should have kept used Bruce for comfort, she definitely shouldn't have climbed back into his bed with him after the first time she did it the other night.

Natasha should have stopped the kiss before it started, or at the very least, she should have never kissed him back. She pressed her back to the door of her room and closed her eyes.

She wasn't supposed to feel an attraction back for him. She certainly wasn't supposed to provoke it into something more than that, but somewhere along the line, both of those things had happened without her control.

She took a deep breath, took the last three days, and shoved them as far back into the box in the back of her head as she could. She could pretend it never happened.

After all...

Pretending was what she did best.

* * *

Hope that was a good enough update for all of you for now. :) We have runners on our hands here, ho'snap!

Shout out to **Black Victors' Cachat** for the idea in this chapter that Niko would force a Hulk transformation as a distraction to escape his balked tower infiltration!


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note** : Alright, well... needless to say you guys completely blew up the last chapter at the speed of light. So, I hope this next one came equally as fast for all of you!

Welcome to the story **Golfbabe87** and **Fritae**. You picked a good time to enter the fray **xD**

 **Chapter 19** :

It took what felt like ages before Tony searched and realized Bruce wasn't actually in his room. Jarvis had to inform him that Bruce had come out of the room two minutes and twenty-two seconds before Natasha and had made an instant beeline for the lab. He did what he originally intended to do when he came to the shared floor of the two and quickly located and removed several of the planted devices from Bruce's quarters.

"Jarvis, can you alert Natasha to the ones in her own quarters?" he questioned his AI.

"No need, sir. Miss Romanoff is already doing so."

Tony supposed he should have known she would be, but it never hurt to make sure. He made his way back to the elevator and pushed the button to bring him back to the lab. That was exactly where he found his friend. Bruce looked crestfallen and confused at his desk with his hands over his face and Tony frowned before he dragged his chair over and took a seat next to him, "So, want to tell me what happened?"

"Not really..."

"Well you might need to anyways," Tony informed him. "I saw Red and she looked..." and that was the problem right there. Natasha had looked not just neutral, but _beyond_ neutral, something he hadn't quite seen on her before. When he first saw her escaping Bruce's room, his natural assumption had been that she had done something to Bruce, but when she had unknowingly and quite nearly run directly into him; her face had told him it was, in fact, the other way around. His initial thoughts with these two were that it was Natasha who would make the mistake and hurt Bruce, he hadn't imagined that the odd scientist before him now actually had to power to instead hurt _her,_ "Did you sleep with her?"

"What?! No! That's not even—no! Not like that..." Bruce rubbed disparagingly at his face and his shoulders had a haggard slump to them that Tony hadn't seen in quite a while. Natasha had driven the haggardness out of the man in the more recently with her friendship, until the last several days when something seemed to have shifted, particularly last night. His friend was typically a little more upbeat, a little more down to earth, hell, Bruce even smiled on multiple occasions lately. It was something he had gotten so used to seeing that this disgruntled mess of a man in front of him was downright worrisome.

 _Not like that?_ Tony frowned at that and watched his friend carefully. "I'm failing to see what you could have _possibly_ done to her then that you have this wounded look on your face. See, first I thought Natasha did something..."

"She didn't do anything," Bruce defended instantly.

"Yeah, I figured that out, but thanks for proving me right," Tony replied with a roll of his eyes. Still, he could see that Bruce was flustered on an entirely new level than the norm for his best friend and the realization hit him within seconds, "She kissed you." A shake of the head and Tony rethought it, "You kissed her."

Nothing.

That dreadful silence said it all and Tony groaned. Natasha was certainly wrong. She had quite obviously failed in her attempt to make Bruce 'get over it'. He could have slapped Bruce for this level of stupidity, "Please tell me that you did _not_ kiss her and then take off." More silence. "You did... you—you kissed and ran. Bruce, you do _not_ kiss a woman and run away, have you completely lost your mind?"

"I wasn't—I didn't..." Bruce was mumbling and rambling unintelligibly, "She was just—she was so close...it just happened..."

"Well, _why_ did you run? Did she push you away? Kick you? Threaten you with bodily harm?"

"No..."

Tony narrowed his eyes a little before his next question, one he thought to be what likely transpired, "Did she just sort of sit there like a stiff board?" Bruce shook his head at that and the question Tony wished he had asked earlier finally formed from his brain to his voice, "Did she kiss you back?"

There was a slow nod.

"So—she didn't smack you, or slap you, or stab you, or threaten to maim you for it in any way then?" Tony questioned. He felt like he needed to be certain, especially given Natasha's previous attitude about this attraction that Bruce seemed to have for her.

Bruce shook his head.

Tony sighed, "You're an idiot..." It seemed that the 'attraction' wasn't all that one-side like he originally assumed it was. Even Tony had to admit to being surprised that she went with it, she didn't strike him as the type to be interested in someone like Bruce; someone who was broken, who was quiet and a generally good person. _Current situation not included..._

"I panicked..." came Bruce's haggard voice, "I got—I went a little green..." he embarrassingly explained. _Oh crap..._ Then another sad and distressed look came across his face, "Wait... you saw her? Was she mad?"

Tony opened his mouth to answer that, but the truth was, he wasn't sure _what_ Natasha had felt over it. He closed his mouth again and pursed his lips as he tried to debate the best answer. "Hard to say," he finally answered, "She didn't say anything, I didn't ask."

"Why not?"

It was a good question, and he only had one answer, "I couldn't read her, plus...I don't think I'm her favorite person right now," he admitted, not daring to mention that it was more likely Bruce might have just dropped below himself on the 'likable' scale that Natasha internally hid in the back of her mind. "She was a little more..." he paused to try and think of the word but he couldn't find anything to foot the bill, so he simply changed the statement entirely, "Her expression was a little more lacking than usual." This wasn't good, it wasn't good at all and his question from earlier finally rose out, "You said you didn't sleep with her _like that_... what did you mean?"

And Bruce's face was beet red all over again, "I need some air..."

"Whoa—whoa, whoa, whoa! Bruce!" Tony called out quickly, "Was she in your bed? You're sleeping with her, but—but not 'sleeping' with her?"

Bruce looked horrified at having given away something that was so clearly personal, not just to himself, but to Natasha as well. Tony wasn't entirely sure he blamed him for that as he made a horrible attempt to sort of fight off a smirk, "So uh... tell me then. How uh—how long have you been, you know... Platonically sharing your bed with our resident master assassin?"

"Air... I was—I was going for air."

"Bruce," he called again, all teasing gone from his tone as he grabbed hold of Bruce's arm. "Fix it," was the only thing Tony could really think to say. "You went a little green, you ran... just explain it. She'll understand if you do."

But Bruce just shook his head at that, "I don't know how to explain _that_. I—I don't know how to fix it..." and he tugged his arm away and disappeared into the elevator down the hall.

Tony sighed as he tried to decide what to do next, because he couldn't imagine Bruce trying to deal with this anytime soon, and knowing Natasha she wouldn't either. "Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Where's Natasha? Still in her room?"

"Miss Romanoff entered the lounge several minutes ago."

Tony gave it a few seconds before he blew out a breath, "Well... suppose there's less of a chance she strangles me for egging this thing on with Bruce if she's already got vodka in her hand, right?"

There was silence from his AI for several beats before Jarvis responded, "I don't think you have near the ability you think you do to influence Miss Romanoff's decisions."

"Gee, thanks, J-man."

"A pleasure, as always, sir."

Tony sincerely doubted that Natasha wanted his company but that didn't stop him from making his way to the lounge and placing himself on the seat beside her at the bar. The redhead didn't even spare him a glance as she sipped at the clear liquid in her rather large glass. He wasn't entirely sure where to even start this conversation with her, let alone if he even should, he just knew that bringing up the 'fence' theory he had with her was the only thing he shouldn't do.

He hoped maybe she would at least acknowledge his presence but even that came to be a fleeting thought when she emptied the glass in her hand, refilled it, and began sipping again. Right on her temple were a few speckled spots of red that he associated to likely be from the glass of the shattered window on his own floor. Her arms had a few small splotches of purples and blues marring the skin and he could see another larger one trailing at the small amount of her collarbone that he could see from the top of her shirt.

Natasha likely knew he was scoping out her injuries, but even so, she remained vigilant in her silence. The refilled glass of vodka was nearly halfway empty again, and although he had seen her through back quite a few, this was more than he had ever seen from her. Tony supposed he didn't need to inform her that silent, impassive and well on her way to drunk didn't exactly reek of the stoicism she was pretending to have in this very moment.

Frankly, he didn't think she really cared about that either, which was a little more unsettling. It seemed that her plan was to get well and unbelievably smashed, especially given the rate of consumption. That glass was meant for mixed beverages, certainly not for an entire glass of vodka alone, and she was now refilling it a second time in five minutes.

"Natasha."

She capped the bottle and sipped at the drink, eyes dead set on the wall behind the bar, still ignoring his presence even after he finally spoke. Tony wasn't sure if he should defend Bruce's running away, try to explain his running away, or just sit here silently and let her drink it off. She finished the third glass at faster pace and when her hand reached for the bottle, he watched as she shook it, saw that it was empty and then she sighed.

He went with defend _and_ explain, "He wasn't trying to hurt you—"

The bottle shattered in her hands and he grimaced at not just the sheer force that must have taken, but the fact that she was now not only bleeding, but had a rather large shard of the bottle in her palm. Natasha plucked it out without so much as a wince, tossed it expertly into the tiny trash bin on the opposite side of the bar, then stared at the damage.

Tony stood up and pulled a wad of napkins over that lay on the bar before he pressed the clump of them over her hand.

"You know, being here is sort of like an emotional roller coaster," she finally spoke, and much to his surprise, she didn't pull her hand away. Apparently, smashing the bottle with her bare hands had been cathartic, at least a little. She also slurred just a little, it was the first time he heard that, and she must have threw back a few before he had ever arrived. That was unnerving given the fact he had only been about ten minutes behind her entry into the lounge. "I don't like the ride," she added next.

Natasha still hadn't looked at him, but even he had to say that alcohol wasn't _that_ fast at getting someone drunk, and she had the tolerance of a rather large mammal when it came down to it. "Nobody does, just that most people don't notice that they're on them," he offered with a shrug.

She looked rather indifferent at that, "Well, I pride myself on avoiding said roller coasters."

"Can't avoid them all," he told her quietly. He finally dared the question, "Are you drunk?"

"Not yet."

"You're slurring."

She paused at that for a moment, shrugged indifferently, then answered, "I'm concussed."

He blew out a breath at that, "Wonderful...anything else?"

Natasha lifted her shirt for him to see that the bruise at her collarbone he noted before went all the way down to her hip, "Think I had a bad landing with the Big Guy."

"Did you tell Bruce?" he questioned, prodding the ugly coloring gently with his fingertips.

"No." Her eyes remained fixed on the wall, "Pretty sure if that kiss didn't send him sailing off to India, this might. And it wasn't exactly the Big Guy's fault anyways, I'm lucky that I'm not a splattered mural of blood and guts on the pavement."

Tony supposed that was fair enough, "That could be...you know, bleeding internally."

"I'm not." He settled her with a look until she finally turned her eyes on him, "Fine. I'll saddle you with my best kept secret, Tony."

He was honestly afraid of what that might be, "Something not in your file?"

She shook her head, "Not everything went into SHIELD's file on me. There are things I don't tell anyone, besides Clint."

"And you're going to just share it with me?"

Natasha inclined her head a bit to the side, "Only so you don't go running to Bruce, he's got enough to deal with right now."

He narrowed his eyes a little at that, but conceded to the point, it was just strange to realize she cared _that_ much. He hadn't seen exactly how much until she shattered the vodka bottle at the mere mention of his friend. Bruce affected Natasha much more than she had ever let on, maybe even to herself. "Alright... but only if I think you're right and that you're fine."

She nodded a little at that. "Also, don't bother asking if I'm drunk, you have no idea how much that would actually take," she informed him, "I've never gotten more than a buzz."

He opened his mouth to speak but she gave him a look that forced his silence.

"I was injected with a variation of the supersoldier serum," she finally told him.

That floored him, completely and utterly, Tony wasn't sure how to respond.

Natasha merely shrugged as though it weren't all that impressive, "It's a pretty shabby version really, if you compare me to Steve. Mister 'heals fatal injuries in days, can't catch a cold, can't even get a buzz' Rogers. But I can push through most of the same injuries like it's nobody's business."

"You had the flu..." Tony couldn't help but point out that little tidbit of information.

"Mmhm."

He gave her a look of disbelief, "You can barely get drunk, but you can get the flu?"

She chuckled, "It was a potent strain, I'll give it that. Never actually got sick before, not since I was little. Had my spleen removed when I was nine. Internal bleeding due to being on the wrong end of a wooden kendo stick."

Tony felt a little piece of him just shred at that comment.

"Don't give me that look," she waved him off, "They only give the surgeries to the _best_ ," and she sneered out the last word like it was venom. "Anyways, no spleen makes me more prone to infections, otherwise, I'd be golden."

He openly stared at her with that.

She smirked, "Come on, did you even hear me so much as sniffle or cough after that third day when I came into the lab and helped out with the Hulkbuster suit?"

Tony hated to admit it but she was right. Not once did he hear or see any remnants of the flu that had bedridden her for three days. She just got up on day three and moved around like it never happened.

"What? Nothing to say to that?"

He waited a beat, "So you're a superspy?"

Natasha's lips quirked into a slanted smile, "Nothing super about me. I'm just...me. Whoever that is these days, since I can't even figure it out anymore."

Control was a valued commodity for someone like her and Tony knew it. Whatever this thing was with Bruce had thrown her completely out of whack, at least for the moment. "Alright... I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that you know that 'shabby serum' better," he finally agreed. "Now about Bruce—"

"I'm not talking about that."

She sounded pretty keen on that and he sighed a little, "Just, let me talk here this time?"

She didn't stab him with any of the broken pieces of the vodka bottle, so he supposed that meant it was safe to continue, but then she foiled his plan with her words, "Look, Bruce and I, we're alright." He must have given her a look of disbelief because she continued, "It was a mistake. I'm not angry with Bruce, not really."

"But you are angry?"

"At myself."

That didn't make sense. "Why would you be angry with yourself? He kissed _you_ ," he reminded her.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "I was there. I remember." She tugged her napkin wrapped hand from his and pulled the sticky clump away to peer underneath. He noted that it was almost done bleeding, which was actually impressive given how large it was. "Hand me a few more napkins?" and he did. Tony watched as she wrapped them a little more neatly than his former clump job before she spoke again, "I'm angry at myself because it was _stupid_. I said I wasn't going there and then—then I did. I let emotions cloud my judgment and it won't happen again."

"Natasha, emotions aren't a bad thing," Tony tried to explain to her.

She scrunched her nose up a little in distaste, "My line of work, they get you killed." Tony frowned a little at that as she stood up and headed towards the elevator, "Just tell Bruce that me and him are fine."

"One question!"

"Just one?" she threw back with a more amused look for the first time in their conversation.

He chuckled, "If you can't get drunk, why drink at all?"

She didn't even have to think about it, "I said I never have, I didn't say it _couldn't_ happen. The getting a buzz thing is still alright enough. And if you tell anyone my secret, you won't have to wonder if I'll kill you with whatever is handy next time, you know I will."

He frowned a little at that. He hated secrets. He did, however, value his life. "Wait, wait, wait!" he called out. "One more question!"

Natasha turned with one hand on her hip as she settled him with a quirked eyebrow, "I knew there couldn't be just one."

"How old are you really?"

She smirked, "That's one thing that hasn't changed."

"Well, that's good. I'm not sure what I would do if you were actually an old woman, those fantasies I had from your PA days would have become really awkward," he quipped.

* * *

Bruce wasn't sure what he expected when he went into the common kitchen of the tower, but seeing Natasha at the table wrapping bandages around her hand wasn't near the top of the list. He almost turned around and ran right back out before he remembered that she was perceptive, she already knew he was there, and running again would probably seal the nail on the coffin of a friendship he had already screwed up earlier this morning. There was also the added fact that the gash on her hand required a lot more than bandages, though she seemed to have decided otherwise.

It was an internal fight right now to decide if he should say something, go about his business like nothing was wrong, or leave. Natasha didn't seem to be interested in talking, in fact, she wasn't even acknowledging his presence. Worse than that was that he could smell vodka from the doorway of the kitchen.

He supposed that being nervous and fidgety about this entire thing was with good and sound reason, for those few seconds he had actually looked at her face before he bolted, she had no mask on. Bruce had seen the slightly hurt look that crossed her face when he took off and that only served to make all of this worse. It wasn't that he thought she was unfeeling but he never expected any of that to happen. He definitely never would have dreamed she might return the sentiment, let alone the suddenness he had kissed her with, yet she had done both with an equally sudden fervor.

Bruce finally settled with moving towards her and taking the half-bandaged hand into his own. He was sure she could and would have stopped him if she actually wanted to, so he wasn't too fearful of her in that moment, but she still wasn't looking at him. "What happened?" he finally asked quietly, unwrapping the job that she had accomplished. "You didn't have this when..." he trailed off on that when it left a small pang of regret. _When I kissed you...when you kissed me back...when I ran away..._

Natasha was quiet only for a moment longer before her eyes shifted and met his. Nothing. He couldn't read her, not in the way she normally allowed him to at any rate. "Got glass in my hand," she finally answered.

He had a feeling there was more to it than that, but he didn't have it in him to push, and he didn't exactly feel like he had the right to at the moment. "It needs stitches, not just bandages..."

"I'm aware."

Maybe he didn't have a right to be doing any of this at all if the frigidness creeping into her voice was any indication. "Okay—okay... well, just wait here a second..." he told her quietly before he left the kitchen. Bruce wasn't sure that she would still be there when he came back with the tiny suture kit from the lab, but she was, eyes vacantly staring at the wall before they moved back to him. Just to make things more awkward, Steve was there, frying bacon and eggs.

"Morning, Doctor Banner."

"Uh...morning, Captain," Bruce offered in return before he moved to drag a chair next to Natasha. He sat down and set the kit down, setting up the sutures before he pulled her hand back into his.

If Steve was at all surprised to see someone getting stitches at the kitchen table, it certainly didn't show, but his comment was surprising, "You get that during the window crash, Romanoff?"

Bruce could see Natasha giving the supersoldier's back a dirty look and he frowned as he looked over at her, "Window crash?" The last thing he remembered before Hulking out was the bullet about to be shot into Natasha, not even a fragment of what happened afterwards.

"Nothing," Natasha stated quickly, "Just stitch it up."

He could see the odd look that Steve was giving the redhead and that only made Bruce frown more, "Jarvis?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Show me."

Natasha blew out a sigh when Jarvis responded with, "Of course, Doctor."

He watched the feed from the room, watched Natasha get pulled _off_ the roof, even watched as his greener half nose-dived over the edge a moment later. Bruce watched the feed switch to Tony's floor where Pepper was, then watched as the Big Guy came smashing through the window, releasing the grip on the redhead as she hit the floor. It looked _painful_ and watching her roll across the floor and struggle to stand was worse. But then his angrier half turned on Pepper with a sudden hostility and Bruce was afraid of what might happen up until Natasha stepped in between them.

He turned his head back to Natasha, "He hurt you."

"He saved my life," she corrected.

"She's right," Steve piped up from the stove. "If it wasn't for The Hulk, she would be dead on the pavement, not sitting in the kitchen."

Bruce watched as Natasha inclined her head in Steve's direction with apparent agreement. He was quiet as he pushed through the last couple of stitches before snipping the end of it. The Other Guy had practically thrown her when he landed, hurt her, how could she _possibly_ kiss him back after that? He tossed everything back into the bag before he picked up the bandage and re-wrapped it around her hand.

"Bruce..." her voice was soft again, gentle, and he couldn't deal with that. He tied the end of the bandage off before he stood up and retreated to the elevator.

He didn't make a very grand escape when Natasha squeezed through the elevator doors at the last possible second and he looked anywhere but at her. It was effective right up until the part where she slammed her palm on the emergency stop button and jolted them both a little with the sudden loss of velocity.

"You're not being fair to him, Bruce," she stated quickly, "The Big Guy did his best, he didn't _mean_ for any of that. He was saving me, not hurting me."

"But he did hurt you."

Those peerless green eyes settled him with a not-so-friendly look now, one that reeked of the unspoken words, _so did you._ He grimaced at that and looked to the floor, but her fingertips settled on his chin and raised his head ever so slightly until his eyes were back to greeting hers. "Things happen, Bruce. Sometimes those things aren't what we meant to have happen, but they _do_ happen," she said softly.

Natasha didn't look angry, or upset, or hurt. She just looked like she understood, and somehow that just made it all worse. "I didn't mean to..."

"I know," she told him before he could finish. The heat rose to his face in an instant when her hand came to rest with a ghost-like touch on his cheek, "People make mistakes, Bruce. You made one, I made one, and now we get past it."

"Just like that?" he questioned.

She gave a small nod as she retracted her hand, "Just like that."

She moved her hand to hit the button of the elevator once more but he stopped her quickly. "And we—we're okay?" he finally dared to ask.

Natasha turned to look at him but once more, he found it near impossible to read her expression again, even as she nodded.

"Because... you don't look like we're okay," he added quietly. She pushed the switch anyway and Bruce released a frustrated breath. He followed her off the elevator when it opened up to their floor and finally spoke again, "Natasha, maybe we should just talk about—"

She turned to him again with that unreadable face and he frowned at her words, "There's nothing left to talk about, I thought I made that clear, but if you keep bringing it up then I might change my mind about us being okay."

Bruce nodded just barely at those words, "Then... what about Niko Constantin?"

"What about him?"

"A few months ago he was trying to capture you, make you flip sides," Bruce reminded her. "So why the sudden change of heart? Why try to kill you now?" It was the one question eating at him since he walked onto that rooftop.

Natasha shook her head, "It wasn't about killing me." She sounded pretty sure but it didn't change the fact that it almost happened, "He had an ulterior motive. I just...haven't figured out what it is yet."

"Something besides the sudden desire to shoot you dead?" he questioned and he winced a little just at the thought of it all over again.

She sighed a little and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jeans, "Killing me was an afterthought. I just happened to be standing in the way of his escape route," she explained. Her eyes narrowed a little as her head tilted to the side slightly and he could see her brain working at a mile a minute. "He was planting bugs, all over the tower," she finally told him. "I pulled several from my room, Jarvis said Tony snagged three from yours."

"Mine?"

Natasha nodded.

"When?" Her face said it all and he rubbed at his eyes, "So...after?"

"Yeah." She rolled the stiffness from her shoulders as she leaned against the wall, "Intel gathering at that massive of a scale? Tony's been yanking bugs all morning from a lot of different places in the tower," she informed him. "You don't go that in depth for a personal vendetta. He had an hour long open window to take me out when I was alone after I left the party," she explained with a shake of her head, "This was something else."

Bruce frowned at that, "Ross?"

Natasha inclined her head a little but she didn't agree or disagree, "You know him better than I do. I've only had one run-in with the guy, though admittedly, I wanted to punch him in the face even then."

He chuckled a little at that before he ran his hand through his hair, "I don't know for sure. I mean, maybe. It wasn't coincidence that he was there when your guy—you know..."

"Yeah, I remember," came her dry response. "Jarvis, don't suppose Tony has you trying to back-trace these devices to see where the info is being fed?"

"He is, Miss Romanoff. Though, I've also noted that you are attempting the same thing from your own computer."

Bruce smiled a little at that.

"Yep," was her simple response to Jarvis' words, "Going any better for you?"

"Unfortunately, no results yet."

She nodded her head a little at that, "Yeah... get the feeling if we do get any results, they won't lead anywhere." She scrunched up her nose slightly before her eyes came back to meet his, "I'll figure this all out, Bruce."

He really wanted to believe that, but so far they hadn't had a whole lot of luck when it came to Ross or Niko, specifically Niko who seemed to be the one to continuously nose around in their business. "Was there a bug on the floor that you and the...Other Guy... crashed into?" he asked. When she nodded he sighed, "Video or audio?"

"Both."

"So they saw—"

She nodded again, "The lullaby. Yeah..." Natasha seemed to know what he was thinking, "It's a little late to worry about it all now, Bruce. Whatever they hoped to accomplish with those bugs, I get the feeling they got more than they expected in a few short hours."

"Seeing the lullaby?" Her eyes shifted away just slightly, "And the ki—Natasha...I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, me too," and now Bruce knew for sure they weren't 'okay'. She still had her hands stuffed into her pockets as she walked away and disappeared behind the door to her room. Maybe he should have emphasized on the apology a little better.

That kiss had been... amazing, unintentional, but amazing.. He rubbed at his temples as he leaned against the wall and sat on the floor. This was all one giant disaster and he wasn't lying when he told Tony he didn't know how to fix it. He just needed to come up with something, something that would make it all really be okay, he just didn't know what that something was yet.

* * *

 **:)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note** : Here's the ointment for your slow burn, apologies for that. I'm including HuggaHulk decorated bandaids to cover those burns with. Welcome to the story, **Bregje** , and continue to enjoy the ride!

This chapter is for **Adsdragonlover** , because I laughed hysterically when you told me you shipped these two like Fed-Ex. Glad you didn't say UPS. They stuck a box in my mailbox today that took me fifteen minutes to wiggle back out. Bastards don't ship like we do... *sniffle*

 **Chapter 20** :

Bruce was almost positive he came up with an appropriate way to _really_ apologize to Natasha. She wasn't avoiding him at all, but her openness from recent weeks had become almost nonexistent. After five days he and Tony had crafted something in the lab that Bruce thought might bring her back around. Mostly she just didn't strike him as the 'flowers' type of woman and he decided she was more the type to be appreciative of something more prudent. Someone like Natasha would prefer something useful, something that she could fight with, and Bruce was sure he had come up with just that. It wasn't exactly tested, being that Natasha and her new uniform were required for the full effect, but what testing they had managed was terrifyingly effective.

Fortunately Natasha was in the perfect place to bring the gift and so he made his way down to the gym. She was currently using Thor as a punching bag when he walked in and the Asgardian seemed thrilled by the fact she chose him to spar with her this morning. The demigod also had no qualms with putting Natasha down hard on the mat, something she also seemed thrilled by if the grin on her face after Thor helped her back up was any indication.

"A valiant effort, Natasha," Thor told her with appreciation. "You are a warrior of equal repute to those of Asgard," and Bruce was sure that the compliment wasn't at all necessary and then Thor topped it off by holding his fist out towards her.

Natasha's eyebrow quirked up as she looked from his fist to his face.

"Is this not how one shows respect after a match of physical prowess?" Thor questioned with a ruffled brow, "Barton informed me that fists of bumping were _all the rage_ on Midguard."

Bruce covered his mouth and bit back a laugh as he watched Natasha's face show the hilarity she found from Thor's statement, then she did something he never imagined he would see, she gave Thor a fist bump.

"Doctor Banner appears to want your attention," Thor informed her and Bruce released a weary and nervous breath as Natasha glanced over in his direction.

He watched as she studied him for a moment before she came over to him, "What's up, Doc?" It was teasing and teasing was definitely a sign of things being a little better between them for the first time. He wouldn't have thought her greeting was teasing if it weren't for the fact she had found him watching Bugs Bunny the night before and had given him a rather bemused look before sitting at the other end of the couch and watching it with him in silence.

Much as he didn't want to, Bruce floundered a little as he pulled the two tiny metal rods with little hilts on the ends from behind his back, and then he held them out to her. True to character, she looked a little confused at the two blackish-silver rods with a little bow around them before she took them from his hand, "What exactly are they?" she questioned.

"They're uh...they're batons."

"Oh?"

"Stun batons, sort of, with extra kick, like your cuffs... but stronger," Bruce offered up in explanation. "It's sort of a see it to understand it type of thing. They're for, you know, when you run out of bullets," he tacked on for good measure.

He could see Thor looking on with interest at the new weaponry as Natasha pulled the bow off and settled one baton in each hand.

"They work without the uniform too but they're stronger with the upgrades that Tony gave to your suit." He leaned forward and pointed with his index finger, "Just squeeze there."

Bruce took a good three steps back as she squeezed the little rod hilts where he said and a slanted little smile formed on her face as the batons formed from them with a little cackle of electricity. "Alright," she stated as she glanced back up at him, "That's actually neat."

He shrugged sheepishly at that, "Still needs to be tested with your uniform though, you know... to make sure it's fully effective."

Natasha gave a small nod as she released her grip a little and the batons retracted. "You made these?" she questioned with curiosity.

"Well, yeah, but Tony helped."

She smirked a little, "Of course he did, he's Tony."

He smiled a little at that.

"Did you want to test them now?"

Bruce nodded, "Yeah...I mean, if you want to."

She didn't seem to notice his awkward and unsure answers to her questions, but then again she rarely ever did, or maybe she just expertly ignored it. He really couldn't be sure with her sometimes. "Absolutely," she agreed with a grin, "I'll be back with the right wardrobe."

And she was gone pretty quickly with that statement. It wasn't often he saw actual interest or excitement from Natasha but that had been one of those moments where she showed her version of both. Well, her version of interest and excitement anyways; her version being a sly little grin and brighter than usual eyes. It seemed that the whole 'give her weapons, not flowers' idea was more effective than he originally planned.

"Hello, Doctor Banner!"

Bruce turned to glance at Thor as the man walked over towards him, "Hey, Thor."

"Might I ask you a question?"

He almost wanted to say no, _almost,_ but Thor had said it so formally that he found it was impossible to do that _._ "Sure..." he supposed it couldn't really hurt any.

Bruce knew his initial thought was wrong when Thor gave him a rather shit-eating grin, "Are you courting Lady Natasha?"

He choked out a cough at the question as he stuttered out a response, "Uh...no. No...I'm not—I'm not courting Natasha."

"Oh, I see."

"Why—why would you ask that?"

Thor gave a shrug at that, "It is merely that you have just performed an Asgardian courting ceremony for female warriors."

Bruce stared at him in shock, "Courting ceremony?"

"Indeed. It is customary when courting our female warriors that one bestows upon them a weapon of great value," Thor explained and Bruce almost wanted to face palm. "Is that not a custom of Midguard?" the demigod questioned.

"Not that I've been made aware of..." Bruce answered.

Thor nodded at that, "Understood. Regardless, you seem to have made her quite happy."

"You think so?" Of course he had the barest idea that he had done so but it was good to know she seemed that way from the perspective of someone besides himself.

There was a smile from Thor as he nodded again, "I do indeed, Doctor, and now I shall take my leave for your testing for the last time I was involved in testing of a Stark-crafted weapon there was an explosion of fiery proportions that still has not healed fully on my backside. I think I would very much like to avoid that happening once again."

Bruce snorted out a laugh as the Asgardian took refuge inside the elevator and thankfully he didn't have to wait around long for Natasha to reappear in her catsuit.

"Alright, let's see what we've really got to work with here," Natasha stated as she gripped the hilts of the batons. A little grin formed as they extended again, this time with a more enhanced blue cackling around them that matched the blue wiring that Tony had put in her suit to charge up her Widow's Bite cuffs for more 'oomph', as Tony put it. "That looks...potent," and she was giving them an admirable little look.

"Yeah, just don't poke me with them if you can avoid it. Tony did that and it really wasn't that much fun," Bruce told her dryly.

Another little smile curled on her lips, "I wouldn't do that but somehow I'm not at all surprised that he would." She inspected the blue electricity on it as she held it a few inches from her face, "Are they lethal?"

"They can be," Bruce admitted with a small shrug, "You adjust voltage with your suit. How much you produce from the suit, goes to the batons. Tony put a chip in them that should, in theory of course, activate and enhance with your suits wiring..."

"Nice," she commented with appreciation. The batons retracted again and she eyed her suit in curiosity, "Now we just need to make something for the suit that holds them."

Bruce chuckled at that, "Knew I forgot something."

Natasha placed the hilts down on the nearby bench before she came back over to him, "Bruce, you didn't have to do this."

"Sorta did..." he disagreed.

"Because you kissed me?" she questioned. It wasn't said with any ill-feelings; no anger and no sadness. She didn't wait for an answer, she just tilted her head a little as she tried to gauge what he was thinking, "Which part of that morning is this apology actually for, you know, just so I'm clear?"

He hesitated at that, not sure if there was a right or wrong answer to it.

"I get it, you know?" she said next and he frowned a little. "I saw," she added as she pointed from her eyes to his. "You didn't have to run, Bruce. I understand why you did but you don't have to do that with me. You never have to do that with me."

 _Maybe...maybe not._ It was nice to hear her say it though. "That's not exactly an easy thing to explain..." Bruce finally told her with a sigh. "Sorry I almost turned green when I kissed you?" came his rather self-deprecating humor and the tiniest little smile played at her lips with it. He rubbed at his eyes wearily before he made eye contact and his next statement came out of it's own volition, "You make my heart beat faster, Natasha." There was this befuddled little look on her face as she tried to comprehend what he just said and he gave a sheepish shrug, "Not... in a bad way, I mean it's not _good_... but you just, you just do. It's good...in a really—really bad way."

It sounded stupid to him and he regretted saying it for just a few seconds, but then her eyes softened exponentially as she seemed to let the words sink in. It seemed to be the first time she was actually a little speechless, at least when it came to anything he had said to her, and Bruce wasn't all that sure what to think now. Apparently he didn't need to read her to know what she was thinking though because her fingertips clutched the front of his shirt and then she carefully pulled him towards her so that his mouth met hers.

And Natasha's lips pressed ever so gently to his own. It was nothing overwhelming, nothing crazed, and she didn't push for more like she had in his bed.

Nonetheless his whole mind went into this little fog for a few seconds before he remembered he should do something besides stand there like a brainless moron. She didn't give him much time to return the kiss when he finally got the sense to, about one second of kissing her back was all he managed before she pulled away. It was probably a good thing given the rate his heart was beating at already and he had a feeling that she knew and that she backed off for that exact reason. Her one hand still gripped his shirt and the other was on the back of his neck while her nose remained just a fraction of an inch from his.

"What was that for?" he managed to wonder aloud after a few seconds of getting his senses back.

Natasha smiled a little, "We're okay, Bruce."

That was perfectly clear to Bruce as he stared at her and took a few deep breaths. "This can't work, Natasha..." he tried to warn her. "I can't really have this..." he motioned between them, "you know... _more._ "

"I don't need more," she stated with a small shrug as she released his shirt from her grasp. "Until that morning I didn't even think I wanted... _this,_ whatever this is," she explained with a small shake of her head, "I'm okay with whatever we are, Bruce."

He frowned at that as she settled the hand that was on the back of his neck on his arm instead. "You should want more than that..." he insisted.

Natasha gave him an odd look at that. "I'm not used to wanting things at all," came the unexpected admittance. "And as for more? That's not something I even know how to do, which is probably why this is okay with me," she finally explained. "We've had a conversation about my emotional capacity before, Bruce. It's not very extensive," came the reminder.

Bruce remembered it pretty well. That day she had gotten a tranq to the back of the neck and he had gotten a bullet to the head. The same day he had asked her how long she'd been in love with Clint and she had given him to most incredulous look. "You're capable of more than you think you are," he insisted, or at least he thought she could be if she would just let herself.

She got a little closer in that moment as the tip of her nose brushed his and he flushed a little, "You offering to prove that to me?"

"Natasha..." there was an obvious note of warning in his voice but if she noticed then she was rather keen on ignoring it.

"Were you sorry you kissed me, Bruce?"

"It shouldn't have happened..." and even Bruce knew that wasn't much of an answer.

And Natasha didn't disagree. "Maybe that's true, but it did," she reminded him. It was hard to concentrate with her as close to him as she was right now. "I lied to you the other day," she told him next.

"Lied?"

"I'm not sorry," she explained with a small shrug, though she did back off a little and put the tiniest amount of space back between them. "I only thought about the fact you ran and not _why_ you did it," she finally stated.

Bruce shook his head a little at that. "I didn't really explain it that well," but he really wished he had.

Natasha gave him a rather endearing little smile, "You didn't have to, or rather, you shouldn't have had to." She narrowed her eyes a little as she studied him and it made him a little nervous, especially when she asked her next question, "What do you want, Bruce?"

She had said that she was someone who didn't want for much and the hard truth was that Bruce found that he wanted a lot of things, most of which he knew that he couldn't have. Natasha had slowly and then very suddenly become one of those things, although from her stance at the moment, he was beginning to question how out of range she actually was. "I don't know—it really doesn't matter," he heaved out in a sigh.

"If it matters to you it matters," she said softly.

"Does it matter to you?" he dared to ask.

She blinked a few times at the question and he supposed it _was_ a little weird. He once again hadn't really emphasized on what he meant but she decided to answer it in her own way, "You've started to matter to me." That left Bruce with a strange feeling that he hadn't had in a long time and she said it so matter-of-factly that he actually believed her. Then she spoke again, "Is this something you want to try?"

"And risk going green?" he couldn't help a sardonic little laugh, "Natasha...that's a terrible idea and we both know it."

There was a tiny hint of saddened amusement in her eyes as she watched him before she finally bothered to respond, "I'm not going to jump your bones if that's what you're afraid of, Bruce. That doesn't matter to me."

"It doesn't?"

Natasha gave the barest semblance of a shrug, "It doesn't mean anything to me."

That was depressing in an entirely new way and although he supposed he shouldn't be surprised, it still brought about that tiny reminder that she had enough skeletons in her closet to match and even exceed his own. "How would... _this_...even work?" he dared to ask.

It was sort of sad in its own way that the only way they could explain whatever had suddenly grown between them was by calling it 'this'. He supposed for two people who weren't exactly savvy with relationships, what 'this' was, was probably as close as either of them could manage. "Figure it out as we go," she suggested with a small smile, "Practice?"

"Practice?" he chuckled a little at that.

"If you want. Everybody needs practice," she added innocently.

Bruce smiled a little at that, "So—so what, we just—just run with it?"

Natasha leaned in closer again and he could feel her breath leave little puffs of heat on his mouth, "I'd like that." It was like she was looking right through him in that moment because her eyes searched his before the next the next statement left her lips, "But something's still wrong...what is it?"

"It's just that-that since you kissed me back..." he finally mentioned, "I look at you and—and you could have anybody that you want. I'm trying to look at myself through your eyes right now but all I can do is ask myself why."

"What do you mean?" She actually sounded confused and Bruce almost couldn't believe it. "Oh," and she seemed to catch on at least a little bit by the sounds of that. "Is this an age thing?" she asked with a smirk.

"No, well...sort of. That's—well that's one thing." And of course he was stammering, he felt like he always was around her, but as per usual she seemed to be enjoying it. Chicks apparently dug that according to her.

It seemed she did too, even outside of her shower, because Natasha gave a small laugh as she shook her head, "So it's everything then? Age, awkward dorkishness, your angry alter-ego?"

"That about sums it up."

"None of that bothers me, Bruce. If it did then I would have never kissed you back in the first place."

Bruce huffed out a small laugh. Of course none of it bothered her. She had proven a few times that she had no qualms with the Other Guy and the fact that the Other Guy seemed to have no qualms with her was one of the only reasons he even thought this had some chance of being something like she was suggesting. He still didn't trust himself and the Other Guy, but for whatever reason, Natasha seemed to trust both of them. It drove him just a little bit crazy at times, especially since he hurt her last time, even if he had saved her life. "You're..."

"I'm what?"

There were any number of words for what she was: beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, _young_. "Breathtaking." She looked a little surprised as she blinked her eyes several times and he rested his hand on her cheek, "You know you are."

"Nobody's ever said it quite like that," and he figured it was the right word to actually use because she leaned forward and pressed the smallest kiss to his lips. It wasn't like before, though it was still gentle; this one was soft, simple and innocent and he didn't hesitate long to comply and return the movements of her lips. It didn't send his heart rate sky rocketing into dangerous territory like the last two, but it did still kick it up a notch as he rested his hands on her waist with a bit of uncertainty.

The moment didn't last long and heat shot straight to his face when someone in the open doors of the elevator cleared their throat. Both Bruce and Natasha pulled away and turned to look at Tony who was wearing a rather smug little grin as he looked at their proximity. Of course, Natasha's closeness and the fact they were on the training mat didn't help matters much. "Well—this is all so very Fifty Shades of Green and all but our All-American Applepie Captain thinks he's got a solid lead on another HYDRA base," came Tony's entertained interruption.

Natasha, to her credit, seemed completely unfazed by Tony's interruption as she turned her attention back to Bruce himself. She rolled her eyes a little for only him to see before she geared herself into full-on business mode as she turned to Tony with a mask in place, "And this one is real?"

"His ghost of a friend hit it, they hit back...It's all rather disastrous, so you know, just another day in paradise."

"And Barnes?"

"Gone as far as we can tell but he definitely put the whole place in a tizzy," Tony mentioned with a small shrug, "It'd probably be a good time to jump in and finish what he started."

Bruce watched as Natasha inclined her head to the side a little in agreement before she actually did so vocally, "If we're lucky I can put a knife in Strucker's eye when we get there." And he thought her heard her say something about her new baton going somewhere unseemly under her breath, but he wasn't certain.

Tony gave a whistle of appreciation, "Thatta' girl. Rogers is in the lounge with Wilson and Thor."

She gave a small nod to that and Bruce watched as she turned and glanced at him with a face that told him they weren't quite done talking. He supposed they weren't since he had still never managed to actually answer her before Tony-interruptus came into the gym. The truth was, he still wasn't quite sure what was she was offering. He didn't know what 'this' was or what it entailed other than the fact it clearly involved kissing, something that she did _really_ well, and something he grew to like more each time. Natasha grabbed the batons from the bench and was gone on the elevator before he had a chance to stop her.

He sighed a little as Tony came up to him with a devious look and his hands innocently stuffed into his pockets, "Give it to me straight, was that some indication that I need to ask Jarvis if my eyes will bleed before I enter a room you two are occupying?"

"Wha-? No..." he groaned out with a shake of his head, "Tony—just don't."

Tony chuckled a little, "I'll let this go for now because we've got places to be. Let's go, it's time to strut, Big Green."

"Strut?" Bruce questioned. It took a second before the realization hit him, "No. No, no, _no_. I'm not going," he insisted.

Tony held out the gamma pants, "Put on your Big Girl pants, Bruce. There are _tanks_ , several of them." It shouldn't have surprised Bruce that there was a sense of excitement about the said tanks from the billionaire and yet it still did, causing him to sigh. "Tanks and bunkers and computers to hack, _oh my_ ," he quipped next. "Red already proved that she can handle the Big Guy in a tense situation. It's already been field tested like it or not, twice as a matter of fact," Tony reminded him. "I'm forever and eternally in her debt for the last one by the way," he added and Bruce knew that Tony was studying his reaction. "Give this a chance, Bruce. You can stay off-scene, wait things out unless there's an emergency," and his friend gave a small shrug before he got on the elevator that came back down, "We'll be in the lounge for another ten minutes if you change your mind."

He blew out a frustrated breath as he watched the elevator doors close and take his friend to one of the upper floors. This was apparently the day of seeing how many curveballs Bruce could take at the plate before completely losing his mind. Natasha and whatever _this_ was. Tony trying to get him to willingly bring the Other Guy out into play in an actual fight for the first time since New York. He would be putting a lot of stock in faith, something he didn't have much of in his entire life; faith and trust in a certain redhead being able to tame his other half after a _real_ battle.

Bruce wondered if he said no if she would think that was something against her. As wary as it made him, he wanted to tell her before that he did want whatever _this_ was, that as nervous as it made him, he wanted to figure it out. Maybe this could be a way to show her rather than to tell her. He double-checked that he was alone before he changed pants into the gamma pants(which really... they needed a better name), and if this was to become a _thing_ , probably more pants.

He folded up his normal pants, ran his hands through his hair, then got onto the elevator and traveled up to the lounge. He made it inside with about a minute to spare and arrived in the doorway just in time to hear the teasing that was taking place between Natasha and Sam. Tony was rolling his eyes at the conversation while Steve just had this knowing little smile as he shook his head.

Sam was playing with fire.

"So...you called me _Sam,_ " he reminded her with a cheeky little grin.

Natasha had her eyebrow quirked just slightly with her arms folded across her chest, "Feeling nostalgic about it, Wilson?"

Sam waved that off, "Nah, no. Just noting the day where I became Sam to the great Natasha Romanoff."

"Don't get too excited, Birdbrain," Natasha told him with a little smirk playing on her lips, "I was just being friendly since I thought you were about to drop fifty stories and become a pizza on the pavement."

Sam grimaced at the mere thought while Thor bellowed out a laugh.

"Nice imagery, Romanoff," Tony looked a little proud by not just the 'pavement pizza' but also the new nickname.

Bruce felt that little smile growing on his lips as Natasha sauntered just a little closer to Sam and added an affectionate little tone to her voice as she pressed a hand to his chest, "Falcon is too intense, I think I'll just call you Pigeon." And the fire was playing back.

"Good grief..." Sam mumbled out.

Steve was chuckling even as Tony and Thor hooted out laughs.

Of course it was Natasha who knew he was there before any of the rest of them. Her eyes turned towards him as she gave Sam a playful shove away and she glanced him up and down inquisitively before she settled her gaze on his pants. "You're joining us?"

Bruce felt all eyes shift to him. Center of attention was not his favorite thing and he blew out an awkward little breath before he met her eyes and nodded. "If that's alright with you, since...you know, you're sort of the key to this working," he added. He wasn't sure, but he hoped his voice conveyed the meaning behind that.

Her eyes blinked several times in the span of two seconds but she seemed to have read between the lines. That rare yet real smile graced him with its presence just a moment later. "You already know the answer to that," she assured him.

"I'll just uh... stay back though, unless I'm really needed..."

Natasha and Tony nodded their easy agreement to that.

Steve was the one who spoke up, "Really glad to have you joining us, Doctor Banner. It'll be good to know we have another heavy hitter on deck just in case things go a little sour."

"I'm sort of acclimating to things going a _little sour_ ," Bruce deadpanned with a mediocre little shrug.

To his relief, another little smile played at Natasha's lips, though she was doing a fine job of hiding it from the eyes of any of the other men in the room. Whatever _this_ was, it wasn't going to be an open thing and that was something he could be grateful for. Nonetheless, Bruce knew that Tony was like the bull who met the china shop, and he was definitely going to have to talk to his friend about that, especially if he wanted one friend to survive the wrath of the other.

Moments like this he was sort of glad to have such a short list of people he wanted and trusted himself to be around. Juggling Tony and Natasha was no small feat, especially when he didn't want the latter to murder the former.

* * *

Other than Natasha and Tony's rather simplistic hack of satellite feeds above the base and Steve's thoroughly thought out plan of attack, the flight on Tony's jet to the base on one of the islands of the archipelagos, which were some miles off the coast of Africa, was rather mundane. Natasha herself was their expert on terrain of the area and the islands themselves, but that being said she wasn't thoroughly well-versed with the areas, only having one prior mission and not in the exact area that was their current destination.

This wasn't a season she enjoyed being on the archipelagos either. Volcanic eruptions, warm rain in hotter weather that hammered your skin and did little to leave you refreshed, and harshly uneven terrain to trek; those were the more notable events she recalled from her and Clint's last trip to one of the islands(that and a very eventful landslide that she was keen to pretend never happened). Weeks of chasing slave traders through an island that was vast amounts of jungle and equal amounts of Saharan desert, with one rather ill-timed monsoon, was enough for one lifetime and the island she was looking down at now seemed to fair no better in the wet season.

The base was built in the midst of the jungle, little buildings hidden into nooks and crannies of the expanse of trees and well-hidden to anyone that wasn't actually looking for them. It was no wonder HYDRA had been so irritatingly hard to find when the only way they could even find that the buildings connected to each other were when Bruce set up geothermal scans. At least she thought that was what he said he was doing. The small buildings above ground turned out to be manned guard posts and bunkers that led to the true base that lay beneath the surface, branching out through a vast numbers of tunnels, and if Bruce's scans were any indication then this wasn't likely to be easy.

"Alright. Stark, Thor... you guys get down there and get ready to draw them out," came Steve's orders.

Natasha barely managed not to roll her eyes when the two men exited through the side door and took flight with Tony's parting comment of, "I thought there were tanks. They _cannot_ be hiding tanks in the _jungle_."

She caught Bruce's small but weary smile as the scientist shook his head and she returned it, just barely, before Steve could turn to her and see it. By the time the supersoldier was facing her, she had her mission mask on again as he spoke, "Romanoff, Wilson, you ready?"

"To have Pigeon carry me off into the sunset?" Natasha joked dryly, "Never been more ready in my life."

She heard Sam groan while she watched Bruce hide a little smile behind the screen of his StarkPad.

Steve stoically ignored her joke as he looked to Bruce, "You'll land in the clearing a few clicks West... if there's a Code Green—"

"Yep... I know what to do if someone calls for a Code Green, Captain," Bruce offered up with a sigh.

If it was called for then Bruce would exit the jet, bring out The Hulk, and traverse the jungle in havoc-wreaking fashion to the base. Beggars couldn't be choosers and there was no plan for what the Other Guy would and could accomplish, he was a wild card and even Steve knew that. The Hulk smashed. Period.

"Alright. Let's go."

Natasha snickered at the way Sam and Bruce stared open-mouthed when Steve did a backwards free-fall out of the jet with nothing but his shield. Not even a parachute.

"Take it this isn't the first time he's done that?" Sam questioned as he came around behind her and locked his arms around her waist.

"Mmm..." she agreed, "Star spangled show-off."

She heard Bruce chuckle and Tony snorted out a laugh over the comm just as Sam and herself flew out the door of the jet as well. _T_ _his_ was one hell of an experience and it most certainly beat out the using of parachutes. Regardless of enjoying the wind in her hair and how freeing the experience actually was, she managed to keep her face an infinite void as he brought her down to the ground beside Steve who had taken cover behind the overgrowth of leafs and vines that flowed from one of the trees of the jungle. She bent down beside him and watched over his shoulder as Tony and Thor landed outside the door to one of the one-room buildings furthest away, which really wasn't all that far.

"Ten bucks says Stark plays Shoot to Thrill to draw them out," she whispered in Steve's ear.

She heard the supersoldier trying to contain a chuckle before he held a hand up to her, "Back in Black."

She arched an eyebrow up at that and smirked before she gave his hand a small shake over his shoulder. Clearly Steve had gotten quite up to par with AC/DC over the months and she wasn't sure if she found that to be more amusing or the fact that he _actually_ made a bet while on a mission.

Within the next thirty seconds, 'Back in Black' met their ears and Natasha groaned a little as she murmured a quiet, "Dammit..." Much to Steve's dismay and Sam's utter amusement, she tucked a ten dollar bill into the back pocket of Steve's suit.

"Where did you even _have_ that?" Sam huffed out quietly in disbelief.

"Don't ask her that..." Steve informed his friend, " _Never_ ask her that."

Natasha barely held back another smirk as her eyes shifted from building to building, watching as dozens of HYDRA soldiers poured out from all but one of them. She locked eyes with Steve and nodded her head in that direction, watching as he nodded his agreement. Herself and Steve were the only ones going in unless things went 'sour'. Sam had deemed the outdoors a better fit for him, saying that his wings weren't really fit for tunnel systems. She didn't entirely disagree with the theory and so she and Steve stealthily made their way towards the one building that nobody had exited. He waited at the door as she peaked in through one of the rather cloudy windows. It was near impossible to see inside and she clenched her teeth a little as she made out grainy shadows pacing inside. She held up one finger at Steve, then a second, a third, and finally a fourth. She saw him nod from the corner of her eye and then he kicked in the door within seconds of it.

He rushed in and Natasha slid in a few moments after when all four sets of eyes were locked onto the supersoldier rushing them. Two men were down when Steve had slammed them into each other by their foreheads. He was fast enough that none of them could react to his presence right off the bat. Steve was in the middle of taking down the third target when the fourth guard seemed to get a handle on the situation. He lifted his gun to the side of Steve's head and Natasha pounced on him from behind like she was a predator finding it's prey. She pulled the wire of her garrote tight around his throat and the gun clattered to the ground as he fell forward under her weight. Instead of waiting for him to choke out, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his face into the concrete floor. His nose gave a satisfying crunch and left a crimson stain on the dirtied gray of the floor as she retracted the garrote and stood up.

She arched an eyebrow when the guy wriggled through it and tried to get up. Natasha pulled one of the baton sticks from her pocket, squeezed the hilt, and gave the man a 'love tap' on the side of the neck. She grinned a little as he trembled and seized and fell back down unmoving. She gave the baton an affectionate little look before she retracted it and slid it back into her pocket.

Steve was already kneeling over by the stairs and waiting for her, shaking his head at her reaction to the weapon as she silently padded her way to the opposite side of the stairwell entry. She kept silent as he spoke over the comms, "How are things going out there?"

"Ohh, you know... bad guys, guns, boring stuff. All that tedious bullshit," came Tony's nonchalant comment and Natasha shook her head a little, "Really would have preferred a challenge. Like a tank."

"Right..." Steve muttered with a sigh, "We're going in."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Tony quipped next.

Natasha rolled her eyes this time as she followed Steve down the stairs. It still surprised her sometimes that someone as big as Steve could move almost as silently as she could, though it probably shouldn't given that The Hulk was eerily silent when he wanted to be. She knew that terrifyingly well after his game of cat and mouse with her on the Helicarrier.

"We don't know what's down here, Nat..." Steve whispered as he stayed just a few paces ahead of her, "We're going in blind."

She gave the barest nod at that as she followed him into the first tunnel. "Steve..." He paused in the tunnel and looked back at her, the warning must have been obvious in her tone. Much as she loathed to make her next admittance, to bring more light on something from her past, she knew that she needed to now. "If Constantin is here? He's got version of your serum in him..." and she could see Steve's eyes harden a little at that. "It's crappy compared to you or to Barnes...but it's effective," she felt him study her a little, like he knew there was more she wasn't saying, and she felt a little guilty, "You needed to know."

They both remembered the last time he had to deal with someone on his own level. Bullet wounds and broken bones and a horrifyingly broken Steve Rogers on a river bank of the Potomac, though in his defense, he had been more obsessed with saving his friend's life than saving his own. That same man watched her now until he finally nodded, "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it..." he finally told her.

There was the tiniest semblance of disappointment in his voice and she had to admit to deserving it. It probably wasn't a good time to go admitting she had the same affliction as Nikolao, and really, she was probably the only idiot in the world who would call it an affliction. Either way, she bit her tongue and followed him in silence once more.

When they came to the first door in the tunnels, she knew they didn't have the intel to just skip over it. Everything had to be checked, every door had to be opened, every tunnel searched from end to end.

The anticipation was nail-biting at best and she watched as Steve swung the door open cautiously before she went in high with her gun drawn and he went in low, his shield covering them as they entered. The feeling was all for naught when all the room revealed were rusted yellow-brown filing cabinets and nothing else. She heaved out a breath before she yanked a few cabinets open and flitted through them with her fingertips.

"Anything in those?"

She shook her head slightly as she skimmed through another, "Nothing important as far as I can tell..." Natasha moved to a third cabinet, then a fourth, then a fifth, each one yielding nothing that seemed of any value.

Until the last one.

She bit down on her lower lip as she pulled out a manila folder and she watched as Steve came up behind her to see what she had found.

"Why the hell do they have that?"

Natasha couldn't even find it in her to be surprised that Steve, the man who rarely cursed, had just done so. She shook her head a little with just as much wariness as he had shown before she glanced back down at what was written on the top of the tab.

 _Banner, Robert Bruce_

She couldn't help the worried little voice in the back of her head that questioned why HYDRA would have a file on Bruce and that same niggling told her it didn't mean anything good. It told her what she had been hoping wasn't true. The possibility that Nikolao Constantin wasn't the only one working with HYDRA, that perhaps General Ross was as well.

She sucked in a little breath that Steve didn't seem to notice when he pulled the thick tannish-brown folder out that had been just behind Bruce's file, and she watched his eyes narrow and his brow furrow as he angled it for her to see. The folder itself was already familiar looking enough and she didn't need to look at the name to know what it said, but she cast her eyes to it anyways.

 _Romanova, Natalia Alianovna_

Natasha sincerely hoped that wasn't what she thought it was but it looked dangerously like her Red Room file from a decade ago, the one that held sixteen years of her life, the one that she had never been able to locate.

Until now.

Now it rested in the hands of Captain freakin' America.

* * *

 **Sorry guys. If I didn't update now then you'd be waiting a few more days. Better something than nothing, right? While I won't have access to updating for two to three days, I will be able to write. So... when I get back, you'll have the rest of this.  
**


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note** : I'm back and also apparently an accident just waiting to happen. Opened up my laptop, cat jumped behind it, knocked it into my mouth...and now I have a fat and bleeding upper lip... Ahh... life. Now then, onto the second part, starting off directly where the last chapter ended, enjoy another slightly longer(okay... doubly-longer) than the norm for a chapter. Figured I owed it to you guys.

Happy birthday today to **levi97100**. Here's your present, kind sir!

 **Chapter 21** :

It seemed her eyes were burning a very searing hole into the decade old file that sat in Steve's hand. She watched as his crystal blue eyes looked down to it in concern before he lifted it and held it out for her to take. Natasha wasn't really sure why it surprised her so much that he handed it over without a second thought, but she pulled it into her hands along with Bruce's. The simple fact was, there were things in this file that even she didn't know, things in her past that could be answered without the lies that had been so easily fabricated in her mind by the people who weaponized her from early childhood. It held the answers to every question she had and some that she likely didn't know she had.

"You alright, Nat?"

"Why wouldn't Red be alright?"

It was Tony's voice and she watched Steve grimace when he realized his comm was on, "She tripped."

And Natasha kicked him in the shin before rolling her eyes. _Nobody_ was going to believe that and she whispered the thought aloud, "You're a terrible liar, Rogers."

" _Riiiiight_."

Regardless, it did make her chuckle as she looked for something to shove the files in. It wasn't often she came across physical files anymore, not when most people digitized anything and everything, it wasn't something you typically prepared for. Apparently, you needed to prepare for _everything_ when it came to HYDRA, and there was no chance she was leaving these here to come back for. While Steve was on a search of his own, her eyes skimmed through the folder on Bruce and she narrowed her eyes a little as she got towards the end. Natasha glanced up to make sure he wasn't looking still before she tugged the end pages of the files out and slipped them into her suit through the front zipper. Steve was the one who found the leather knapsack that he handed over to her and she quickly shoved the files inside before pulling it closed and tying it to her belt at her lower back.

Steve was one of the few people who seemed to always have her back even when she so clearly hadn't earned it. Not revealing Nikolao's serum before now hadn't been an intentional exclusion on her part, just another part of her past, a past she rarely spoke of since so much of it was still so uncertain. The reason for never having found the file before now was far too clear. Nikolao had taken it ten years ago when he had ripped her from Red Room, ripped her from her mind and her fabricated memories, and he had given it over to HYDRA.

"You want to tell me what's in that file?" Steve whispered out the question just before he peered out the door and into the hallway they had entered from.

Natasha really didn't if she was being honest, but given how much she had already neglected to tell him, it seemed unfair not to give some sort of answer. "It's Red Room's file on me," she finally answered just before he swept into the hall silently. She followed behind him and glanced back at where they came from before she spoke again, "Hard to say exactly what's in there besides a good sixteen years of my life...or why HYDRA would want it."

"How about _how_ they got it?" he questioned next as he paused outside the next door, "Take it your friend had to do with that, too?"

Her gaze was locked onto the wall, something about it just seeming _off_ to her, but she couldn't place why that was. She hadn't looked at it twice when they had entered from the door just next to it, but something now had her looking not just twice but three times before she finally looked back at Steve and answered the latest question, "Probably."

Again he pushed the door open. Again, he went low as she went in high with her gun raised. _Again_ , nobody was inside the room. A sweep of the room led to nothing conspicuous or important along with the next several doors in the long corridor. She paused and kept perfectly still when Steve stopped at the edge of the corner that led around to the next hallway and he moved his hand across her middle to keep her halted.

He held up two fingers and she nodded before she gave him a closed fist signal that told him to stay. Steve just gave a nod and that was another thing she liked about working with him. Like Clint, he didn't question her, he knew she was able to hold her own and that situations such as these were one of her many specialties. Natasha nodded her head up to the rafters the hung above their heads and without hesitation he cupped his hands together and bent down. She stuck one foot in his hands and he boosted her onto them with ease. She shifted quickly and silently from one metal rafter to the next until she was just above the two men.

They were turned away from Steve now and she could see him glancing around the corner as his eyes shifted up to look at her position. She eased the metal hilts that Bruce had given her from her pocket before she dropped halfway down the rafters, her knees keeping her hanging upside down. The two men looked stunned as she hung before them and she winked, "Hey, boys." She squeezed the hilts as and pressed them to their necks, watching as the two men seized, writhed, then dropped to the ground in instant.

Steve was already moving in her direction as she gave a small swing with her upper body and landed in a crouch.

"Those are handy."

And Natasha was pretty sure that his comm was still active when she gave the weapons praise, "I think so, too. Banner made them. If you're nice, maybe you can get a pair too."

There was that awkward little chuckle of disbelief from Bruce in her ear which proved that Steve's comm was indeed still on. She was moving right behind Steve as he pushed on down the hallway before it changed from bleak and gray walls to a muddy tunnel lit with stringed lights along the top. They were dim and almost useless and she didn't like the foreboding feeling that trailed at the thought of going down it, not even a little bit.

"Oh good... they're literally tunneling like the rats they are..." Steve muttered.

She inclined her head a little in agreement, "Yeah and I wore my good boots, figures."

Steve looked genuinely amused with her odd humor, just as he always did on their missions together, and he shook his head a little with a small smile. That smile faded when he seemed to hear something that she couldn't and his eyes were peering back in the direction they had come from. For a few seconds she couldn't figure out why until she felt the rumbling of the ground beneath her feet.

"What the hell is that?" she dared to ask. Both of them wandered painstakingly slow back in that direction before she looked around the corner with wary precaution. Now she knew _why_ that wall had seemed so damned odd. It wasn't a wall at all. It slowly raised up, sort of like a garage door, and from the cracked opening in the bottom she saw water start to creep out in rough spurts. She said the only thing she could think of in that moment, "I think they know we're here."

"And I think our original entrance is out as an exit," Steve mentioned when the rumbling actually turned into more of a quake. _How much damn water was behind that to cause so much pressure?_ Steve grabbed her hand and _yanked_ so hard he nearly pulled her arm from it's socket, "Go! GO!"

He definitely didn't need to tell her twice. Natasha followed him back towards their original destination, that dirt and mud tunnel, moving as fast as her feet allowed. Of course she did the idiotic thing as they started hefting their trek down the tunnel, she looked back.

The water came bending around the corner like a rapid river on a mission and when she turned her head forward it was only to see that the end of the tunnel was a rather large metal wall raising from the dirt in the ground. It was the only exit other than the one they came from and the reality of the was that they would never get back there now. HYDRA was trying to seal them in and very likely drown them. Steve was ahead of her, already leaping up and onto the top of the rising wall before reaching his hand down in wait for her.

"C'mon, Nat! C'mon!"

That wall was dangerously high now, high enough that if Steve didn't move to the other side it was going to crush him in the next thirty seconds. Thirty seconds wasn't enough for her to get to the wall and have him pull her over, not even if she thought she could still reach his damned hand. Instead she did the one thing that seemed to hold the most logic.

The files were more important than she herself was. She untied the knapsack from her waist and tossed it up into his hand. That look in his eyes said it all and she shook her head, "I'll figure it out. _Go_."

He was an inch away from being crushed.

"You have the files, Rogers! GO!"

That panicked look didn't leave his eyes, but he knew the mission had to come first when she used his last name rather than his first. Yet again she was reminded of why she chose to follow Steve as a leader. He finally gave the smallest of nods and rolled off onto the other side.

The onslaught of voices in her ear was almost bothersome and obviously they all heard the entire thing.

"Thor, Wilson, keep these guys busy!" came Tony's voice over the comm, "I'm on my way, Red. Get ready."

 _Get ready?_ She frowned a little, stuck between where the water was rapidly flushing down the tunnel to slam against her and the metal wall blocking her in. Natasha took a deep breath and pressed against the wall as the water crashed against her and knocked the wind right out of her. Taking the deep breath had been nothing if not useless and her ribs felt like they just might explode before she got the will to get her head above the water that was rapidly filling most of the tunnel.

She sputtered the water from her mouth before dragging her aching arms into motion as she swam without any real coordination towards the original entrance her and Steve had used. Unfortunately it took even less time for the small amount of space she did have between the top of the water and the top of the tunnel to fade to almost nothing.

There was no chance. She could swim better than most but there was no chance she could hold her breath long enough to make it all the way back. She was sure as hell going to try though.

She sucked in the deepest breath she could at the last possible opportunity before diving under and making long strides her her arms and legs. It fizzled out her comm, and really, maybe this would give Tony a reason to make the damned things waterproof. It felt like the most useless endeavor as she made it to the first corner and rounded it. It was surprising enough to have made it this far let alone that fact she got another foot or so down the hall before the edges of her vision went black. There was no moving faster after that, only slower as she tried to push on, and it was _too_ _far_.

That was when she saw the sheen of red and gold at the other end of the water. The sparks that trailed even through the water told her it was Tony in the Iron Man suit. He made it to her in seconds, metal arms latching around her before he pulled a fairly graceless one-eighty degree turn and fueled them back from the direction whence he came. She choked on the water at the last second before he flew them both out and they landed even less gracefully as he went back first out the door of the building.

They skidded across the dirt of the ground, and for most if it he had her tucked tightly to him and took the brunt of it, not that she would complain much being that the water that had been sucked in sputtered it's way back out from the impact. Natasha shifted to her hands and knees as she hacked out and spit the muddied water to the jungle-bed floor, then she sucked in deep breaths before she realized that Tony was apparently saying something. A metal hand clasped over her shoulder and she settled him with an uncertain gaze before glancing around. She smacked her hand to her ears with the realization that almost everything was more than a little muffled. Almost like background noise.

A few more seconds and it all came in a little clearer and she shook her head to loosen the rest of the water lodged inside. Gunfire. Thunder. Lightning. Tony's voice. _Feral growling_. Natasha shifted her head in the direction of the last one.

"You hear me?" she finally caught Tony's words as he pulled her up on her feet and studied her through the Iron Man helmet.

She nodded before she remembered to speak, "Yeah, yeah I can hear you. The Big Guy is out?"

Tony nodded, "Yeah. Think he uh...think Bruce lost it when you..." he trailed off and she supposed he really didn't need to finish it.

She winced a little when her ear piece crackled back to life with a weird little shrill before it returned to normal. Well, maybe they only needed a _slight_ upgrade for water damage, at least it hadn't completely died when submersed.

"You got her, right Stark?" came Steve's voice. It was still grainy and sounded a little far off, but crappy comms were better than no comms.

She activated her own comm, "I'm good, Rogers." And she could actually hear the relieved breath he pushed out at her words.

"Well... be glad Bruce went green, you might need him," came Steve's next comment.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful," came Sam's sarcasm over her comms.

"Found Stark's tanks."

Natasha was pretty sure Tony was grinning even though she couldn't actually see behind his helmet, "Naturally, just what Shellhead here wanted."

"Romanoff, third building on the left, need you back down here," Steve ordered next. It was just the way they worked, 'Romanoff' and 'Rogers' always when others could hear, they were teammates on missions with everyone else and friends with just each other. It was stupid really, but a way to keep things straight, a way to make sure that priorities weren't shifted during a mission. That same reason why she had made sure to say 'Rogers' earlier after he called her 'Nat'. To make sure that he put the mission first.

"On my way," she responded as she made her way there with Tony clearing a path of anyone who got in her way. Steve was getting better at it, getting more willing to make those tough calls, and it was very likely the reason that Fury had teamed her up with him in the first place. Natasha was likely the best person to teach the American hero how to make those. How to put friendship after the mission.

Though there were moments where she had failed in that lesson with him. Moments where _he_ taught _her_ that sometimes friendship was _more_ important. She wasn't sure, but that might have been Fury's secondary reason for teaming them up. Clint had given her a reason to work for SHIELD, a reason to not give up and try to wipe some red from her ledger, and even shown her that people could be more than targets. They could be friends. Meanwhile, Steve had shown her absolute and complete blind faith, that trust could be given before it was ever earned, and that she could trust someone other than Clint.

She hadn't taught Steve nearly as much as he taught her and the few lessons she did teach him were mostly that she was someone who shouldn't be trusted.

Yet all these people willingly teamed up with her. Allowed her the privilege of her secrets, besides Tony, though she didn't begrudge him that. She was actually starting to like the jerk, nosiness and quirks aside, he was actually a generally good person if you dug below the surface. She might have never seen it before if it weren't for his easy friendship with and obvious protectiveness over a single person: Bruce.

She glanced at the blur of green that rampaged onto the battlefield just as she got to the door of the building Steve had urged her to enter. Natasha caught the Big Guy's eye for a moment as he paused and looked her way. Somewhere behind that angered and hostile face she thought she saw relief before the ground of the jungle opened up to reveal metal and a ramp that led down underground.

And Tony's tanks sounded their way up that metal ramp and caught the Big Guy's eye.

"The tanks have arrived!" Tony's voice sounded a little overexcited by that fact and she rolled her eyes before she peered through the door into the building. No one awaited her inside and she took one last look back as The Hulk picked up the first tank and threw the thing a good few yards until it crashed against a tree.

She sank further into the building and made her way quickly and quietly down the halls. Bruce and his greener meaner half were an even stranger anomaly in her already strange life than Clint and Steve had been. Emotions weren't something she did. Relationships _definitely_ weren't something she did. His awkward stammering when she flirted, his dorky comments that made her smile, it just stirred something in her that she couldn't seem to put aside.

But she tried. She _really_ tried to. Then he had to go and take a bullet for her. His other half had to go and jump off a building for her. Her own body seemingly rebelled against her in her sleep and clung to him. And then he had to go and _kiss_ her.

She snaked around several more corners cautiously, like another rapid of water might come careening out of nowhere, though nothing did. There wasn't even a soul in sight, which she was grateful for, but it was a little worrisome.

Still, the other thoughts crept back in. Natasha had kissed Bruce back like a mindless and compliant imbecile, not only that, but she had taken it too far. She hadn't meant to. She hadn't meant for any of it. Nobody had ever actually evoked a _real_ physical response from her and it was _fascinating_.

Near death experiences made her think far too damned much and she released a shaky breath as she trudged on down the hall. Thinking so much right now was dangerous and she shoved Bruce and all his dorkishness to the back corner of her little box. The box the was slowly being _filled_ with things she tried to ignore about him and things she tried to pretend never happened. It pissed her off to no end that she _couldn't_ seem to forget these things. Her box had never failed her before.

It was failing her now.

Natasha was never more glad to have two men in the hallway she turned into next. She kept her steps quiet even as she moved more quickly. At least this was a way to take out her anger and frustration with her 'feelings'.

Something crackled over her ear piece. Just noise at a high pitch that made her pause mid-step for a moment and shake her head to try and get the ringing from her ear. The crackle and static only lasted another second before it went away and she moved forward again.

And the two men, they never saw her coming.

Soaking wet, dripping, they never saw or heard her.

And she pounced, using her body in the lethal ways it was created and crafted for. She slammed the head of the first guy into the wall and kicked her leg back so that her foot caught the chin of the second. It was like a cog turning in a well-oiled machine. Thoughts went out the window and red seared through her vision. She pulled the first man into a headlock and twisted his neck until it snapped before she reared on the second. His fist came at her sloppily and she grabbed his wrist and twisted it around behind his back. She used that same arm to force him to the ground with enough pressure that the _pop_ resounded and he screamed out in agony.

That probably alerted anybody nearby and she placed her palms on either side of his head before she bent and yanked and _snapped_ his neck as well. Natasha knew quickly that she was right about alerting anyone nearby. She vaguely heard the grainy sound of Steve's voice telling her that she had company heading in her direction.

The red from her ledger permeated her vision as she pounded forward on quick feet when a HYDRA soldier exited from a door on her right. She didn't waste time as she rammed her elbow into his gut, slammed her fist under his chin in an uppercut, and then threw him head first into the drab cement wall of the hallway. The guy behind her likely thought he was unseen and unheard when he was anything but, he was sloppy and loud, impossible to miss even for an untrained ear. She reached back over her shoulder, got a grip around his neck and somersaulted as she vaulted him onto the ground in front of her.

Natasha yanked the knife from her boot and drove it into his heart, then she removed it, stood up and moved further down the hall. She heard the two sets of footsteps running before they ever rounded the corner ahead and she yanked out the second knife from her other boot. The moment they rounded the corner she reeled her arms back and threw both knives. Each one met their mark and both men fell in an instant. It had been _ages_ since she left a trail of dead bodies like she was now, but the red was _everywhere_ , seeping into her and driving her for _more_ blood.

She couldn't form a coherent thought other than kill. _Kill, kill, kill._ She ran forward as her wet boots pelted the dirtied gray of the corridor floor and she yanked the knives from both mens' chests before she slipped around the corner. Two more men coming towards her and she launched forward to wrap her arms around the neck of one man and got her legs around the neck of the other. She twisted with enough force to bring them both to the ground, rolled, then dragged the knives home as they slid across their throats.

"Romanoff!"

She looked up in an instant, yanking a knife from one of her victim's throats and throwing it towards the voice.

"Whoa!" Steve's voice rang out as he shifted to the side just in time to avoid a blade to his face and Natasha thought for a moment she was supposed to stop. The Black Widow doesn't stop. The Black Widow _kills_. She pulled the second knife away from her victims and ran towards him. "Natasha! Nat, stop!" and he grabbed her wrist as she tried to plunge the knife into his chest. In an instant she lifted her other hand but he grabbed hold of that wrist as well. "Natasha! What are you doing?!" he sounded utterly perplexed and pissed and stunned by her onslaught.

She wasn't supposed to be doing this. She _knew_ him, but she's not supposed to care if she knows her target. _Not supposed to care._

"What's going on, Cap?" came Tony's voice through her ear.

"I don't know! It's Natasha—she's—"

She didn't give him time to finish. She wrenched her knee up and put it right below the belt. His grip on her wrists loosened for a fraction of a second as he grunted and grimaced, enough to get her going again. She used his hold on her wrists as a weapon as she launched herself feet first between his legs. The momentum was enough to flip him over from the unexpected maneuver and he landed with another grunt on his back.

Natasha rolled back gracefully and landed with her knees on either side of his chest as she raised the knife up with both hands.

"Nat! Stop!"

She froze for a moment with the knife mid-plunge as she stared down at Steve. Steve... _Steve_. That screeching noise crackled to life in her ear again for a second and she saw Steve's eyes narrow a little as his eyes shifted from her own eyes to her ear. A lower pitched noise hissed away and after another moment she was free. _Free_. Not...not this. The red was fading.

"Natasha?"

The red was all but gone now and she sucked in a shaky breath as she moved off Steve within a fraction of a second and let the knife clang to the ground.

"Hey...hey," he was sitting up, gripping her shoulders, "Breathe, Nat. What just happened?"

Considering she just tried to filet him, Steve was being ridiculously nice, worried in that weird way he had when his friends had just tried to murder him. "I..." she paused. _What the hell had happened?_ "I don't know..." and Steve looked more than a little wary, especially when she gave that for an answer and she really couldn't blame him one bit. She just tried to kill Steve Rogers, Captain America, the posterboy for the Avengers. "I couldn't think..." she finally admitted. His brow furrowed almost infinitely as he glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby before taking a gander at the mess of bodies.

Steve looked at her like she grew another head and she squeezed her eyes shut to the headache that formed. He seemed to think she was going crazy and maybe she was. Maybe she was losing her mind.

"I found their computers, I need you for this, Nat," Steve told her as his grip on her shoulders kept her grounded, "Are you good?"

She supposed there wasn't much of a choice. He seemed willing to trust her to go on, albeit a bit reluctantly, so she snapped her eyes open and nodded her head. "I'm good," she wasn't sure if that confident tone was to reassure him or to reassure herself.

Natasha wasn't sure it was effective either way, but she let him pull her up to her feet and after retrieving her knives, she followed him down the next to corridors that led to the room he spoke of. Sure enough, computers were a dime a dozen in here and she let her eyes flicker over each. She let her fingers stroke over the keys of the first one she came across, her eyes skimming over information as it passed by while deciding if any of the files she opened were worth a damn. So far, none rung any bells. And it was _too_ easy to look through them. There had to be something more. Something hidden.

She moved to the next computer over and went through much of the same motions while Steve kept in the doorway to lookout for any possibility of trouble.

There was a cackle of distorted noise in her ear and she grimaced a little at it. If she didn't need it for communication, she would have smashed the bothersome thing under her boot. Her motion must have caught Steve's attention because she felt his eyes burning a hole in her back as she fiddled with the ear piece before she went about her business. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she went to open one file that actually brought up a username and password. Steve was watching with interest between his glances out the door as she brought up a bypass screen and went to work. Given that _someone_ in HYDRA had to be a decent expert at computers, it still only took her three minutes to get around the username and password.

"Not much here... a list of failed experiments on—on something." She gave it a second once-over, "Or someone," she corrected. "But that isn't really my expertise, Stark or Banner will need to check these out," she told Steve.

"I'll open a line for you to upload the information from the terminal to the jet, just gimme a sec," came Tony's distorted voice through her ear. A _boom_ sounded over her ear and she winced at the feedback over the comm.

Steve frowned as he watched her and she settled him with an annoyed expression, "Stop giving me those worried looks, Rogers."

"Your earpiece not working right?" he questioned.

"Not since I tested its ability to be used post-submersion," she quipped dryly.

It at least worked to set Steve a little more at ease around her again, though only for a second and then he gave her a pathetic little frown, "I shouldn't have left you..."

She turned to him fully now since she was still waiting for Tony to start the uplink, "That was exactly what you should have done." He looked even more frustrated and she tilted her head to the side a little, "Steve, I trust you." It only seemed to make him even less comfortable with leaving her behind so she had to finish that statement quickly, "And I trust you _because_ you can do the hard things. That was the hard thing, the tough choice, and the one that I _trusted_ you to make."

He looked a little relieved at that, still bothered, but relieved.

"Uplink started. Fire away, Romanoff."

Natasha turned back to the computer and tapped away at the screen as the files began to transfer to JARVIS and the jet. She tapped away at the next computer, skimming over the information until a screen popped up that _didn't_ look good. She had clicked on something that said 'Twins' and in an instant an alarming wail pierced over the speakers around them and the screen began a countdown that started with **10m00s**. "Shit..." she muttered.

"That doesn't sound good..." Steve offered uselessly over her shoulder.

She tapped away at the screen, bringing up the same bypass as before, and her fingers moved flawlessly and quickly over the keys. She kept focus and disregarded Steve's obvious wariness.

"Nat..." **8m37s**. "Nat... what is it counting down?"

She blinked for a second but continued tapping away as she answered, "If we're lucky? The computer will short circuit or something."

"And worst case?"

"Do Zola and Jersey ring any bells for you?"

 **6m15s**. "Let's go, Nat," Steve told her quickly.

"I can do this."

"Romanoff, let's go!"

She swiveled her head to him but she understood that was an order this time. She lifted her hands off the keys and followed after him.

That crackling noise sounded from her ear piece again, followed by another equally annoying high pitched squeal. It crackled, sputtered and wailed and Natasha paused again as she cringed and shifted her head to the side a little.

Steve froze in the doorway and looked up and around the room before he seemed to realize the noise was coming from her ear piece, but she couldn't give it any thought, her vision _seared_ again. The tiniest gasp released from her lips as the pain edged at the back of her eyes and she saw him turn to look at her. And the _red_. So much _red_.

"Crap..." came Steve's disgruntled disbelief. In some ways he seemed to understand that she was lost much like she was before. Lost somewhere behind the veil of red. And she rushed him in seconds. "Natasha, don't..." she heard him mumble.

Natasha's fists met his forearms as he blocked her flurry of attacks. Even his legs blocked her kicks. At one point, she must have surprised him, because she slipped the knife into his shoulder and heard him hiss out in pain. Steve must have decided there was no time to keep this up and she couldn't help the noise of surprise when he shoved her to the floor, lifted her under one arm and _ran_.

Squirm as she might she was lodged in and tucked tight between his waist and his arm until he drove both of them through the door three minutes later and out into the jungle.

With just seconds to spare.

The flames shot up out of _every_ building and the ground shook and she took the golden opportunity that presented itself. Natasha rolled over onto him and pinned his arms to his sides with her knees as she yanked the gun from her thigh holster and shoved it under his chin.

But she never got to pull the trigger. Large arms wrapped around her and threw her aside and she tumbled a few times before she landed on one knee and looked up to see Thor staring back at her as Steve stood up beside him.

"Lady Natasha, what has gotten into you?" came Thor's stunned and pained question as he stared at her.

"It's her ear piece, get it out of her ear," Steve grumbled out, "It's making some sort of noise. I think that's what has her going so crazy," he paused and she narrowed her eyes a little as she glanced between the two, or make that three, as Sam landed on the other side of Steve.

They weren't attacking her for a reason. A reason. Then she heard the reason.

She twirled in an instant, swiftly pulling the metal hilt from her pocket before she squeezed it and swung out the baton. It met Tony's helmet with a sizzling blue crackle and she ducked as he went careening onto the ground of the jungle.

"Shit! She just short-circuited my suit!" Tony growled out.

Natasha knew these four. _Knew them_. She couldn't fight all four and that meant there was only one logical course of action.

Run.

She turned on her heel in an instant and took off through the vast expanse of foliage in the surrounding area. The dense trees formed from the wet season were her best defense now, her greatest means of being hidden, and she used them without thought as she moved.

"Natasha! Natasha, stop!"

She didn't stop. She kept her movements light and easy as she left no trail behind her. She weaved in and out of trees that were in her path and gracefully hopped over logs or bushes that marred her path onward. She kept on like that for what felt like ages even after she stopped hearing them behind her. She had concentrated so hard on what might be following, she never thought about what might be ahead, not until she broke into a clearing of overgrown grass and vibrantly colored flowers and foliage.

And one very large and pissed off Hulk.

He snarled and turned in an instant when she stomped into his territory and she sucked in a breath and dived to the side when he sent a tree branch sailing through the air in her direction. Natasha tucked herself into a roll before she came up on her feet, about to run from him when the crackling sounded in her ear. She hissed a little at the low pitch screech that sounded before she lost her footing when she had only just gotten it. She stumbled over with her hand on her head as the last of the crackling noise faded along with all the red and then she glanced up to the angrily concerned look on that large green face.

She stayed crouched where she was as she rubbed at her eyes to try and dull the throbbing behind her eyes. She couldn't for the life of her figure out what was going on, it just _hurt_.

By the time she opened her eyes again, The Hulk was standing only about a foot away and she had half a mind to jump back. But the Big Guy did the strangest thing. He held out a purplish _bush_ with a few roots still attached at the bottom and she fought hard to suppress a chuckle from escaping her lips, "That uh—that for me?"

He huffed a little as he squinted his eyes at her and nodded.

Given that he seemed a little miffed at her original sudden intrusion into the area he had been in, she figured it was probably a good idea to _try_ and calm him down, and definitely not laugh at his very Hulk _ish_ offering of what she presumed he thought were flowers. "Thanks, Big Guy..." she offered up, "Might need a uh... bigger vase in my room for that though." He looked mildly befuddled behind the anger and then he looked at the bush and seemed to _sort of_ understand. He plucked one of the purple buds off almost delicately and offered it as he tossed the rest of the bush aside.

 _Nobody_ would ever believe this happened and she couldn't really fight the smile that curled at her lips when she took it from him, "That's a lot easier to hold onto...thanks."

Of course, he didn't really seem to care all that much as he turned and went back to trampling around in the slightly serene meadow that was hidden a midst the jungle. She quirked an eyebrow up as he uprooted a smaller tree and slammed it onto the ground without much effort, then repeated picked it up and slammed it again. Her ear piece crackled a bit and she groaned a little. It seemed to pull his attention back to her and she figured she should probably get Bruce back. Try to figure out what the hell was going on with her. "Hey...Big Guy," she called softly. She offered up her empty hand as she raised it up slowly, "Sun's gettin' real low."

He snarled a little, looking pissed and riled, likely from the actual fight with tanks and soldiers he had gotten to be a part of. He huffed and puffed a little, like the big bad wolf, then tossed the uprooted tree aside as he trudged over towards her with heavy steps that shook the ground a little. It was a ridiculous and nervous little feeling that hit her like she might just get smacked by him one of these times during all of this, a feeling that hit each of the times she had tried to do this. She settled the feeling away as he glanced from her face, to her hand, her face, and then finally her hand again. The hand that was stained with the blood of her earlier victims. But it was far too late to be worried about that.

A long release of air came from his giant green nose before those enormous brown eyes softened just a little, looking more like Bruce as they got a little wider, a little less angry and a little more awed at the offering of her hand.

Even the angry lines around his usual stoically enraged features faded away a bit, like he was surprised to have her sit here and trust him, surprised she hadn't run off in fear yet. Then he slowly raised his hand up and left it facing hers just as he had the two previous times. Natasha cautiously turned her hand over, not allowing her eyes to leave that more passive face even as he settled his eyes on the upturned offering of her hand. He still looked a little twitchy and unsure, but he finally plopped his hand palm up into hers with only the slightest hesitation still left before he looked up at her face again. She had to remind herself not to let out a breath of relief before she slowly moved her hand up and onto his arm, shifting her eyes back to his as she trailed her fingers down to his palm and then his fingertips.

All in all, he was only a _little_ twitchy while she did it, then she pulled her hand back slowly and watched as he stared at her for a good ninety seconds with a ruffled brow. For that minute and a half she thought maybe it wouldn't work, that maybe all of this was useless and he wouldn't change back into Bruce, but then he moved backwards slowly. Stumbling, really. And _then_ she blew out the breath of relief she had held in as she tried to ignore the whiny feedback in her ear. Tony _really_ needed to work on waterproofing these better.

* * *

It took Bruce a few minutes to come back around when he was writhing on the ground. Even then, it was only because of the voices in his ear yelling back and forth with something about Natasha and how she was apparently losing her mind. He groaned as he rolled to his hands and knees, forcing aside a bit of nausea as he shifted his attention to where the Natasha had been minutes before. She was still there, eyes squinting with a bit of a pained expression as her hands rubbed furiously at her temples.

"She doesn't seem crazy..." he half mumbled into the comm in his ear. She just looked like she had a rather wicked headache.

"She's with you?" came Tony's stunned voice.

Bruce shifted so he was sitting and blew out a breath, "Yeah. She De-Hulked me.."

"And she hasn't tried to kill you or anything, right?" came Tony's next question.

Bruce felt his brow ruffle a bit at the question, "Natasha wouldn't do that...not that I think anyone _could_ do that."

There was silence for a moment before Steve's voice came through his ear, "Banner, get her ear piece out, it's doing something to her."

"Doing something?" he dared to ask.

"She tried to kill Rogers," Tony whisked out next, "Twice."

Bruce almost couldn't believe that, but given that Steve wasn't denying it, it must have been true. He took another half a second to catch his breath before wobbled to his feet and he edged his way a little haphazardly to where Natasha was seated. He eased down to sit in front of her with absolutely no grace whatsoever, it wound up being more like plopping down, "Hey..." It seemed he didn't need to take her ear piece out, she seemed to have figured it out all on her own because she was twirling it in her fingertips in disdain and she looked _guilty_. It was that look that made him move his hand to her cheek. "Mind if I take that?" he asked quietly. She didn't say anything but she held it out to him without a second thought and dropped it into the palm of his other hand.

"We're already heading your way using the tracker in Romanoff's suit... just uh—you know, let us know if she goes batshit again," Tony added over his comm. Bruce had to resist rolling his eyes but Natasha probably already had a vague notion of the conversation that was being held.

He watched Natasha as she took a few shaky breaths before she closed her eyes. He frowned a little more before he pocketed her comm and hesitantly moved his hand and placed it on her knee, "Hey...Steve doesn't seem to think it's your fault."

She still said nothing and even her eyes wouldn't quite meet his. It seemed when you tried to kill Captain America twice you lost a bit of perspective. Her eyes were locked onto the strange and squished purple flower in her hand as she fiddled with the petals and it caused his eyes to roam the weird little area they were in before they landed on a pink and white lily sitting just a foot away. It was probably a ridiculous thing to do, but he retracted both hands from her and reached out, plucking it before offering it to Natasha. Her eyes shifted from the one in her hand to the one he held out to her and her head tilted just a fraction to the side while her eyes took on a rather bemused glint.

She was a bit of a mess to look at really. Her uniform was soaked and muddy, her face had streaks of smeared dirt and blood that _wasn't hers_ and her hair was equally as wet with dirt stuck in it. Finally her blood-caked fingers reached out and almost daintily took hold of the flower before her eyes finally drifted up to lock onto his and the corners of her lips curled upwards just slightly, "Thanks, Bruce."

Natasha's voice came out soft and genuinely grateful and he watched as she tucked the flower stealthily by her thigh. For a moment he could quite figure out why, not until he turned and saw Steve, Sam, Thor and Tony. Tony who was sans his suit. "Where's your suit?" he dared to ask.

Tony gave a rather menial shrug, "Eh, your batons fried its circuits."

Bruce felt his brow furrow as he glanced at Natasha but she had a rather empty expression on now. That 'someone else is here' mask that she threw on. So he made the only comment he could, "Oh..."

"Nat, you okay now?" Steve questioned.

Bruce followed her eyes to the bloodied slit in Steve's shoulder before the numbed word left her lips, "Yes."

If he wasn't exhausted already, the hour trek through the jungle to the jet pretty much sealed the deal, and the awkward silence that hung in the air certainly didn't make anything more comfortable for any of them. Steve gave occasional and wary yet concerned glances back at the redhead who trudged along beside Bruce and if he had enough energy, he might have dared to shoot a glare at the supersoldier to try and make him stop.

Natasha seemed just numb enough by the time they were inside the jet that she took the seat directly beside him and Bruce was admittedly more than a little surprised when she closed her eyes. It was a few minutes into Tony taking off that her head lolled to the side before he felt the warmth of her breath tickle his shoulder and he blinked over at her a few times. His eyes searched around at the others, but they seemed to be looking anywhere _but_ where Natasha decided to rest her head. Frankly, he sort of wanted to do the same, but the remnants of the conversation between Tony and Steve were finally ringing in his brain.

"Let me get this straight, Capsicle. You think her ear piece set her on a path of murder and mayhem?" came Tony's disbelieving tone.

"Yes..." Steve answered. Even Bruce had to admit the man sounded mildly uncertain.

"Didn't she say that file you've got in that bag is her Red Room file?" came Tony's next question.

"Yes..." Steve answered again.

"Well, hand it over, maybe it has answers."

Bruce knew that Natasha was awake the moment she stiffened a little against his shoulder. To Steve's unending credit, he looked a little annoyed that Tony would even suggest leafing through the file. "You're not snooping through her past, Stark. I'm sure you've done enough of that already on her SHIELD files," the supersoldier stated through gritted teeth.

"You want her to try and filet you again? Fine, have at it. I for one don't happen to have juice from a bottle inside me that will heal a stab wound in a single day," came the snarky retort.

"I must admit that though I did not enjoy what overcame Lady Natasha, I am against prying into her life without her permission. That is hers and hers alone, I do not feel comfortable sorting through it against her wishes," and leave it to Thor to be the voice of reason among the group of heroes.

Sam looked a little indifferent to it all, but Bruce figured maybe that was because the man had already seen _one_ of Steve's friends try to kill him, so maybe a second wasn't all that surprising at this point, "Whatever you decide here, Cap...but I sort of agree with Thor _and_ Stark..."

Surprisingly Steve looked like he might just hand it over as he pulled open the knapsack and peered inside and just as Bruce was about to stand up and intervene, Natasha's hand gripped his arm and forced him back in his seat, "Just give it to him, Steve." All eyes turned in their direction and even Bruce couldn't help but stare at her in surprise. She just shook her head a little with her eyes still closed, "Loathed as I am to admit it... he's right. I— _we_ —need answers. Maybe it was a fluke or maybe not, but we still need to know how it happened, and hopefully how to make sure it _doesn't_ happen again."

The silence was eerie besides the sound of Steve pulling the old and worn file from the knapsack and handing it over to the billionaire. Then he yanked out the manila folder, came over to Bruce, and put it in his hands, "Natasha found that, figured you might want to take a look."

He glanced to the file now in his hands, then to Steve, and finally to Natasha who had finally opened her eyes. He flipped it open and peered over the contents.

There wasn't really much at all inside the folder, apparently just whatever they had dug up on him recently, and none of it seemed all that important. Just the original awry experiment that made him what he was, possible methods of 'containment' and possible methods to 'neutralize' him, both of which made him scoff a little. He wasn't sure what was more ridiculous, the idea that HYDRA thought they could contain his monster, or that in the event they couldn't that they thought they could kill him.

"Anything important?" she finally questioned.

"Doesn't seem to be..." he admitted in relief, "Nothing nobody else doesn't already know."

"Colorful list of neutralization techniques they have there," she mentioned nonchalantly, "I rather like the one where they just stick you in an indestructible pod and throw you in the ocean."

Her tone came out so dry that Bruce couldn't help but snort a little in response. He flipped through a few more uselessly detailed pages before he realized something with the file wasn't quite right. It looked like things had been ripped out after the last page. Things were missing. "Somebody tore things out," he mentioned with a furrowed brow.

Natasha's fingers reached out and took the file as she moved the pages with ease. Her expression never changed as she handed it back, "Looks that way."

"Useful..." Bruce mumbled as he took the file she handed back to him and tossed it onto another seat.

"And what of the information that Lady Natasha sent from their computers, Stark?" came Thor's question.

"Jarvis is filtering through that and he'll let us know if there's anything to go on, could probably have more, but it seems anytime someone lets Romanoff and Rogers near a computer at the same time, the bunkers containing them tend to go boom," Tony quipped.

Steve and Sam were shaking there heads with little sighs, Thor was snickering, but Bruce was mostly surprised to see that Natasha hadn't reacted at all. She had that vacant look that told him she was over-thinking something.

"Hey Red."

Bruce watched as Natasha's eyes flitted over to Tony.

"I think Captain Depends was right," he admitted as he motioned her over, "Take a look at this." Bruce watched as Natasha shifted and stood, then moved to Tony at the cockpit.

She leaned over this shoulder and peered at whatever he found and it was one of the first times any of them in the jet saw her face falter in the presence of so many people, saw her eyes give away _everything_ , and Bruce found it unnerving.

She looked not just horrified but as though somebody had told her all her life that the grass was greener on the other side, then just as she got to the fence, told her it was actually worse on the other side. "You're telling me that Red Room made a specific frequency of noise that could flip a switch in me and send me into a 'kill everyone' spree?" she questioned.

"Looks like it, though... technically they say violent fit of rage."

"But it has an off switch," she said next.

"Yeah," he agreed, "But it doesn't mention what either frequency is, what exact decibel of noise would cause it. Cap was right...it was a freak accident. So—at least nobody hacked your brain on purpose?"

Bruce supposed Tony had tried to offer that up to make Natasha feel a little better but the look on her face said it only made things worse.

"I need you to find those frequencies, Tony," came her next comment. It seemed to surprise everyone, "If there's ever another freak accident, or if somebody out there _does_ know what they are, it means we need the off switch."

Tony gave a grim nod at that, "Sure thing." His eyes flickered down to the file in thought before he snapped it closed and handed it to her, "But just so you know, you're getting your own special cage."

"Tony!" Bruce groaned out in disbelief.

"What? God forbid I find the right frequency and she tries to snap my neck or put a pencil up my nose and into my brain or something," Tony stated with a shrug, "I need a line of defense between me and her."

Bruce was glad to see it when Natasha's lips curled into a tiny little grin, "I would come up with something more clever when it comes to your imminent murder, Stark." Tony cringed a little. "But the pencil up your nose is pretty creative, I'll use it for my muse," she told him with a pat on the shoulder. Bruce felt himself smile a little as she came over and sat back down beside him. He never saw her do it, but at some point she had picked up a t-shirt and handed it to him, and he quickly shrugged it on.

"Thanks..."

She gave him the smallest nod as she held the file tight in her hands and closed her eyes again. This time when he breathing evened out, Bruce was pretty sure she was actually asleep, and when he glanced towards the file he could see a purple petal and a pink petal barely peering out the edge of her gun holster. The little smile he had grew just a bit more before he leaned his head against the wall of the jet and closed his own eyes.

* * *

 **Okay. There's one large chapter for you. Hope you enjoyed it!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note** : You guys can let me know if you prefer the double size chapters like these last two, or the half-size ones like usual. Just remember, you'll be waiting an extra few days or so compared to usual for the extra long one.

And sorry for the delay. Broke my labtop. Had to rewrite the entire chapter once I got the new laptop in. And bang my head of the wall. (The latter was definitely necessary.)

 **Chapter 22** :

Within twenty-four hours of returning from the base, Bruce found himself sitting with Tony in the lab and studying the 'experiments' that Natasha had found and uploaded from the HYDRA base. Of course, that was before she ceremoniously blew it up fifteen minutes later, but she still managed to have sent it all before that unfortunate incident.

While Jarvis noted that it also gave them three more mentioned locations for HYDRA bases and/or labs, Bruce himself was fixated on the supposed failed experiments listed. "This is more than a little bit disturbing..." he finally admitted with a frown.

"Which part?" came Tony's voice across the lab. Bruce was pretty sure he senses sarcasm in what he was also certain was a rhetorical question, but with his friend, sometimes it wasn't always easy to tell on either count. "The part where there are dozens of dead people from this experiment? The part where they are practically _all_ volunteers? Or the part where it calls what Strucker is trying to do them, 'Enhanced'?" and Bruce glanced over to see Tony roll his eyes at the last part. "Enhanced. Like he's making them better. Meanwhile, he's pretty much murdering them with their willing participation by making them hope they become the next Captain America," he commented dryly.

Bruce sighed a little, "With the chance they'll become the next Hulk?" Tony's eyes drifted over to him and Bruce gave a little shrug at the incredulous look on his friend's face, "We've seen weirder things happen, unless you've forgotten the aliens. And a team that works _surprisingly_ well given that it has you, Captain America, an alien demigod with a magic hammer, me and the Other Guy... and two assassins."

Tony's mouth twitched into a little grin, "Fair enough. Speaking of assassins..."

"You said you would let that go..."

" _For now_ ," Tony quoted, "I said I would let it go for now. For now has past. So, while Jarvis is going over Strucker's probability for success, you can tell me this—how _did_ you get her to kiss you again?"

Bruce blew out a breath of disbelief. He supposed it was too much to hope that Tony just wouldn't mention it all again, that he would let it go, ignore it. His friend was nothing if not persistent though. "Um...I was...honest?" he offered up with uncertainty.

"Honest?" Tony's face scrunched up as he stared in disbelief, "Honest about what?"

"About my issues with—with this," Bruce mumbled, "With being near her."

Tony's eyebrows raised upward and Bruce sighed a little at the next comment, "You have issues being near her?"

"I have issues with the fact my heart might beat out of my chest when she so much as _looks_ at me like she likes me..." Bruce muttered out. He covered his face with his hands and almost couldn't believe he actually admitted that out loud.

"She does like you," Tony added, "Although, she did a hell of a job convincing you that she didn't for a while, eh?"

Bruce lowered his hands and stared at him after that. "Wait... you knew, I mean, before that whole kiss and run thing?"

Tony shrugged, "Maybe?"

"Maybe?"

"Alright, yeah, I knew. Well, sort of, mostly," came Tony's rather odd admittance. "What I mean is, _she_ knew that you liked her. When she was sick, I sort of told her."

Bruce stared at him open-mouthed for a moment before he could even think to respond, "You _told_ her?"

Tony rolled his eyes, "Are you forgetting who she is, Bruce? She already knew." He supposed that was fair enough. Of course Natasha _knew_ , not much got passed her. "She just thought you would get over it," came the surprising addition.

"What?"

"Get over it. That's what she told me. She said you would get over it."

Bruce couldn't help but stare at him for a good thirty seconds in stunned silence before he dared to speak, "She told you that?"

Another shrug from the billionaire, "Contrary to popular belief, I'm a good listener on occasion." Bruce already knew that from personal experience, but it was a little surprising to learn that Natasha occasionally had talks with Tony as well. "Besides, we realized we have common interests," his friend mentioned nonchalantly. Bruce figured he must have made a weird face because the man explained it with one word, "You. Suck it up, buttercup. She likes you, so tell me, are you and Natasha a thing now?"

 _Were they?_ Bruce hadn't had much of a chance to speak with her since they got back. She might have picked a little fun at Tony on the jet before she closed her eyes to sleep but since they got back, she was unnaturally quiet, even for Natasha. She seemed to have closed herself up in her room with the Red Room file and he hadn't seen her since, or so he thought that's what she was doing, until he saw that very same file under a few papers on Tony's desk. "What are you doing with that?" he questioned quickly.

Tony's eyes shifted down to look at the file that had been unearthed under the papers and Bruce could see the uneasy look on his face. "Making sure there's no other mention of those frequencies before we go poking a fire unnecessarily, or any other possible triggers that might set her off on some sort of killing spree. You know, a noise that makes her murder anyone in sight, bludgeon innocent civilians, or even just binge eat a few pints of Ben and Jerry's," and Bruce must have given the other man a rather dumbfounded look after that last one because Tony asked another ridiculous question, "What? We're drawing the line at ice cream?" And of course, he didn't make any of this any better, "Besides... from the little I saw when I was poking through it on the jet? I don't blame her for handing it over. I was her? I don't think I would want to know. Not any of it..."

"How bad?" Bruce dared himself to ask the question.

"We've seen aliens, Bruce, but what's in here? Even aliens couldn't have made me believe people would do...this...and I've been held captive in a cave in the middle-east with a car battery attached to my chest. I have half a mind to scan it all into the computer and let Jarvis do the searching, which I'll be asking Natasha if I can, just for the sake of speed and efficiency if not my sanity."

Bruce felt his frown only grow at that, "Did she look through any of it?"

"I think so, some parts anyways, then she just sort of threw it down on my desk and asked me to rifle through it. Haven't seen her since," Tony answered, "I guess some things you think you want to know until you actually know them...then you wish you didn't."

"I'll uh...relay your request," Bruce told him as he stood up.

He watched Tony's eyes shift wearily from the file to him, "Might want to tread carefully. Just, you know, do whatever weird thing it is you do that seems to make her like you." Bruce couldn't help but give him an odd look at that and Tony just smirked a little, "What? You must be doing something right, I don't see her kissing anyone else around here."

Bruce groaned a little, "Could you at least _look_ to make sure nobody else is around before saying things like that?"

"Seriously? You're making out with Romanoff and you want to _hide_ that from other people? Most men—"

"I'm _not_ most men," Bruce reminded him, "So just do me a favor and please leave it alone, Tony? I'd really prefer it if Natasha didn't slice you into microscopic pieces and scatter your remains across the globe."

Tony cleared his throat, "Duly noted, but I wouldn't have gone blabbing it to everyone, Bruce. I'm going to chalk this one down to your extreme lack of social skills and the fact that you're flustered over your little dalliance with our resident assassin. However, I'll remind you that friends talk about these things." Bruce opened his mouth to comment on that but Tony shooed him towards the door of the lab and spoke with a ridiculously regal tone, "I'm dismissing you, peon, go now. Go and do the kissing and not telling that shall not be spoken of unless you bring it up."

Bruce chuckled as he shook his head and moved to duck out of the lab, but he paused in the doorway before looking back at his friend, "Hey, Tony?" He watched as Tony's head glanced back up and shifted to look in his direction before he asked the question, "Do you think it— _this_...me and her... Do you think it can work?"

There was a brief moment where the billionaire's mouth opened just a little and hesitated with uncertainty before he seemed to understand the question. "Only one way to find out," was the only answer he received before Tony looked back down at the computer screen.

Bruce supposed that was true enough as he turned and left the lab completely, heading towards the elevator. It was when he was sitting inside it that he figured he should double check Natasha's location, "Jarvis, is Natasha in her room?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Let her know I'm coming up?"

"Certainly."

He lost himself in thoughts of nearly everything while the elevator moved, right up until the ride itself ended and the doors crept open to their floor. He only just made it to Natasha's door and raised his hand to knock when he heard the electronic lock unlatch inside.

Jarvis' voice rang out again, "Miss Romanoff is in bed. She requested that I let you in."

Bruce frowned a little at that. It was late afternoon and given that it was near impossible to find Natasha in bed at normal sleeping hours, finding out she was in bed before dinnertime was a little off-putting. "Thanks, Jarvis," he added before opening the unlocked door and moving inside. He shuffled his way down the hallway towards the bedroom and sure enough she was there, laying on her side, eyes open and on the wall. "Hey..." and he wasn't sure why he offered up the greeting, it wasn't as though she wouldn't have known he was there otherwise.

For a few seconds he didn't think she would even dignify it with a response until he saw her eyes flutter over to peer at him. "Hey," her voice held nothing.

It was the voice he _hated_. Her face was the same empty void as her voices and whatever she read in that file, she was still lost in, trying to figure out what to think of it. He moved slowly to the left side of her bed before he gingerly climbed in. Natasha didn't react to it. She didn't tell him not to. She didn't turn towards him. Nothing. So Bruce did the only other thing that really made sense to him, he laid down and moved a little closer before tucking an arm over her side. She stiffened the second he did it, but she didn't pull away and he managed to convince himself not to run for the hills. He counted nearly two minutes exactly before Natasha slowly relaxed and then she shifted back a little and pushed closer until her back was right against his chest. Reminding himself not to release a relieved breath nearly came too late, so instead he forced himself to speak again, "Did you want to talk about it?"

"Not yet."

"Alright."

Bruce knew it was better not to push it. When or if Natasha wanted to talk about it, she would, and he was patient enough to wait. He knew that while he was the one who needed a good push sometimes, she was the polar opposite and if you pushed her, she might never come back. He had to admit to being a little surprised when her hand found the fingers of his hand at her side as she tugged his hand to her stomach and eased her fingers between his. Apparently not wanting to talk about it didn't mean she wouldn't accept some form of furthered comfort and he was even more surprised that this situation wasn't making him nervous.

He rested his head closer to the top of her head and watched as her eyes slowly drifted to a close. He would have thought she had fallen asleep if her mumbled words hadn't met his ears, "You ever tell Stark that I was the little spoon, I'll find a way to kill you."

Bruce didn't doubt that for a minute but he could see the barest semblance of a smile on her lips and he couldn't resist the retort that formed in his mind. "Want me to turn around so you can be the big spoon?" came his daring question.

For a moment she didn't react and he wasn't sure she would but then her shoulders shook a little from a fit of silent laughter, and if possible, Natasha pressed her back even further against him. "While I like that you're willing to be my little spoon, Bruce... I'm comfortable just like this," she informed him softly before her breathing evened out a minute or two later. He guessed Tony was right. For whatever reason, she seemed to like the stupid comments he always made.

Maybe _this_ could work.

* * *

Only a few hours passed before Natasha felt her eyes drift slowly open. She was still in the exact same position she had been in when she fell asleep early, tucked tightly against Bruce's chest and it was a much stranger feeling that overcame her at the situation this time. Unlike last time where running had been her only thought, where discomfort had taken hold of her, this time it was much different. It felt safe. It was new to feel that away around somebody who wasn't Clint and she actually snorted out a laugh at the image of his face if she told him she was spooning with Bruce Banner.

She wasn't sure Clint would take her seriously if she told him about any of this. He had laughed at the idea months ago when Tony had first pawned her off on Bruce, saying that he couldn't imagine her being 'domestic' with Bruce, though at the time she found it nearly as amusing as he did. She certainly never would have imagined this being a plausible thought when she first went and recruited him in Calcutta during Loki's invasion.

Her laugh at the thought of Clint's face must have roused Bruce because she could feel him start to shift behind her. Natasha forced herself to turn over to face him and found his eyes already open. This time she offered up the same greeting he seemed to enjoy giving her lately, "Hey."

It had the desired effect because Bruce chuckled a little, "Hey."

She wondered how easily that affectionate look he was giving her would disappear if she told him what she found in her file, and if that didn't do the job, she wondered how easily it would switch to contempt when she told him _she_ took those missing pages from his file. Both were things that needed to be brought up, given he wanted honesty from her, and she was willing to try and do her best on that front. "Are you sure you really want to know?" she dared to ask.

Part of her hoped he would say no but she wasn't that lucky. "If you want to talk about it, then yeah," was Bruce's easy reply.

There was only about two inches between their faces and his fingers made their way back to her hand to intertwine with her own. She figured if she was going to scare him off, it might as well be now rather than later, so she just let it out, "I always sort of figured there was a reason that I was pulled into Red Room. I just tried to imagine that maybe not _everything_ in my life was about them, maybe before them, things were normal." She paused for a moment as she debated the best way to even say this before she just rolled with it, "Turns out, I was never going to be anything except what I was made to be."

Bruce made it a lot easier by staying quiet, by listening without interruption, and she was grateful for that.

"My father worked for them, and I suppose if he did one good thing according to that file, it was to tell my grandfather no when he told my parents to bring me in to the program." She could see the look of surprise that crossed Bruce's face but she ignored it as she continued, "He said no. I was four years old when he disappeared from my ballet practice. Three days later, they set the house on fire. My grandfather ordered his own daughter's death, just to prove a point to him, that he didn't need my father's permission. They made him watch the house burn, brought me out, and then shot him."

Bruce clearly couldn't school his expression as much as he had been in the beginning. He looked a little horrified.

"After I read it, I sort of remembered it, a little anyways. He was proving a point about the program it seemed, that by putting in his own flesh and blood, it proved he thought the program could work. And I remember seeing him, my grandfather I mean. All the time. I just always thought he was a pervert."

There was that mixed look on his face now where he clearly wasn't sure if he should be horrified by that comment or find it funny.

"Red Room decided he was no longer of use to them after a while," she informed him next. "So they told me who he was and what he did when I was seventeen, gave me the knife and the gun, and sent me to kill him. Told me it was the one time they would allow me the chance to settle a personal grudge." The next part was where she figured it would all fall apart, but she let it out nonetheless, "It was the first time that whether someone lived or died was actually _my_ choice. And I did it. I went in there, I plunged that knife into his chest over _and_ over _and_ over. He lived, for a few minutes, just bleeding and laying there. And you know what he said? He said that if I could know who he was and I could do this, then I was perfect, and that he was _proud_."

"Natasha..." Bruce didn't sound disgusted with her, he didn't even sound like he pitied her. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what to make of the look on his face at the moment.

"They erased that memory, but I remember it now, and I don't feel bad for killing him... I'm glad I killed him," she admitted with a small shrug before she locked eyes with him, "Does that make me a terrible person?"

But Bruce shook his head without hesitation and rested a hand on the side of her face, "No, no it doesn't." Natasha nodded her head a bit at that and while she expected him to continue talking, she didn't expect what he actually said next, "Maybe that's why we get along." She blinked a few times at that in confusion before he explained it, "Our families were really good at killing each other for no good reason."

It probably shouldn't have been funny, most people probably wouldn't think it was, but she felt the laughter bubble out before she could stop it. He said it so bluntly and nonchalantly that she couldn't even find the horrible statement to be anything but horrendously hilarious, especially now when he gave her that tiny little smile. "That's pretty bad, Bruce."

"Well, I never said it was a _good_ reason for getting along."

She chuckled a little at that but she figured while they were already conversing, she might as well bring up the next bad thing she did. Natasha turned over, ignoring Bruce's ruffled brow as she sat up and pulled open the drawer to the nightstand. She could feel him sitting up to and she saw his eyebrow lift just a little as she pulled out HuggaHulk to lift out what was hidden underneath him.

"You still have that thing?" he questioned in distaste.

She smiled a little at that, "He's not going away, Bruce. You're going to have to stop being jealous of him." She watched him shake his head a little with that awkward little smile before she found what she was looking for and she handed it over to Bruce, "This is what was missing from your file."

He looked stunned and baffled all at once as he studied her, "You—you took the missing pages?"

Natasha nodded a little.

"And...you hid them from me?"

"Not from you," she insisted quickly, "Just look."

Bruce did as she asked, glancing down at what she held out in her hand before he gave her a mildly alarmed look and pulled them into his own hands. They were slightly water damaged but it seemed she had shoved them far enough into her suit to keep them from destroyed on anything more than a mild level. There was The Hulk, standing over a crouched Natasha who had one hand resting on the wrist of Bruce's other half and one hand arched back protectively towards Pepper. The Lullaby. "This is—"

"Not the one I was intending to hide from the others, but I was a little rushed given that Steve was in the room, and I pulled that one with the other by accident."

She watched his eyes shift from that first page to her and then back to the page before he put it aside and stared down at the other. His eyes widened in seconds before coming back up to meet hers. Natasha's eyes were locked onto the picture on that one still. Bruce's bed. Bruce. Herself. And that first initial liplock just sat there in his hands. "Considering we can't seem to figure out what this is, I didn't think you wanted to try and explain that to anyone else," she finally admitted. He looked a little mortified and she frowned slightly as he stared back down at the picture, "I didn't want to lie to you, Bruce and I should have given them to you right away. I let myself get distracted by my own file and—"

"I'm not mad, Natasha..." he insisted quickly, "I didn't mean to make you think I was. I get it... I mean... we can't even label it other than calling whatever we are a 'this'."

Whatever was written on the actual pages themselves were illegible because of the water, the ink had run across the page and left whatever the reasoning was for keeping the two pictures and notes unknown. "I shouldn't have pulled them out, at least then we'd know whatever was written, but I wasn't really expecting to take a swim."

"Natasha, it's alright," his voice told her that he meant that. It was almost annoying that he was so understanding. He didn't think she was a monster for murdering her own grandfather. He wasn't pissed that she not only opened the file HYDRA had on him but stole some of its contents. The realization of what she thought he would do seemed to dawn over his expression and now he did look a little frustrated, "You thought I would leave, or run away, or whatever... didn't you?"

She kept her mask on to mirror neutrality at the hurt tone implied in his voice and that only seemed to make it worse. Clint always told her that her defense mechanism to 'feelings' always seemed to be to push them aside and push away the people who evoked them. It was different for many reasons now, the biggest one being that she had become the teams biggest liability in that last mission, a liability that could make things worse in the future. Finally she just gave Bruce the answer he already knew to be the truth, "It's sort of your thing." That just seemed to bring the hurt from his voice to his face and that was the moment she felt like she should tell him it was alright, it just didn't come out right, "It's alright if you go, I get it."

"Go? Natasha..."

"Everybody leaves, Bruce. Eventually you will too, so if you want to do it now then I won't stop you. This, us, whatever we are—I can pretend it never happened."

"Natasha—"

"It's fine, Bruce."

"Natasha, shut up," and all she could do was stare when he clamped a hand over her mouth to force her into silence. "You're pushing me away but I'm not going to let you. I won't leave. I'm still here, Nat," he insisted. His voice and his face took on a slightly more amused expression after that as he pulled his hand away from her mouth, "You know, I thought I was bad at these things, but you're sort of taking the cake." Bruce was studying her and she could feel it. She still hadn't reacted with her expression or her words and that was when he looked a little worried, "Unless you want me to leave?"

He seemed to take her silence as a cue that she did and Natasha frowned slightly at that, "Bruce." It made him stop just as he was moving off the bed and she watched him turn and look back at her. "Did you tell me to shut up?" she finally questioned.

Bruce's cheeks turned a little red at her question, "Uh...I think so."

"You told me to shut up and clamped a hand over my mouth," she mentioned next.

It seemed to fluster him a little more, "Sor—"

Natasha yanked him down and pressed her lips to his before mumbling the words against his mouth, "I kind of liked it."

He let out a breathy little laugh into the kiss before he pulled away, "You're one strange woman..."

She shrugged a little at that as she explained everything before ruining this further, "True, but... I'm a liability now. I'm not going out in the field with the chance that at any given moment my trigger could be activated. Next time there might be no noise to deactivate me. I _stabbed_ Steve. I tried put a gun to his head and tried to pull the trigger. That can't happen again," she finally admitted as she leaned back against the headboard.

Bruce was frowning now as he moved to sit back next to her. "Is that what this was all about?" he questioned. "That wasn't your fault, that wasn't you."

Natasha supposed he was trying to be helpful, trying to be supportive, but she couldn't help the bitter reply, "Isn't that a little like the pot calling the kettle black, Bruce?" She didn't wait for a response and instead just pushed on, "I told Tony to find the trigger. Which means that before we ever find the frequency to deactivate it, first we have to...you know, turn it on." She didn't look at him now as she asked the question, "So when he does flip the switch, it means I'm stuck that way until he finds the off button."

"Natasha—"

"Look, I just need to say it to _someone_ , and I'm sure Tony can," she added next. "But if he _can't_ find a way to turn it off, don't you dare leave me like that," she told him next. "All I saw when that switch flipped was red. All I could think was _kill_. I knew what I was supposed to be doing, but I couldn't stop. I would have killed Steve, hell, I almost did. I almost killed Tony, too. So could you have forgiven me for that?"

He was frowning a little.

"Would you have told me that was alright, that it wasn't my fault, that it wasn't me?" He was watching her quietly and she gave the barest of smiles at that, "So if you want to stay, Bruce, then you can stay but it's probably better that you go. You were right, I was pushing you away. There's no guarantee that we can reverse the trigger again when it's activated."

"Natasha, it still wouldn't have been your fault," he insisted and she narrowed her eyes slightly. "And I want to stay," he pressed on and she couldn't stop herself from frowning. "You don't believe me, do you?" came his next question. It was true enough. She really didn't believe him and it was clear that he knew, she could see it plain as day on his face. She examined his expression and scrutinized every part of his next words when his fingertips came to rest gently on her chin, "You've made me feel a _lot_ of different things since I picked you up sitting on that stupid duffel in Rajasthan. Angry, sad, happy, confused as all hell..." and she chuckled a little at that last one. "But now? I can't even explain it..."

"Bruce..."

"Enchanted sort of works... you enchanted me."

For a guy who thought he was horrible at things like this, he was actually mind-numbingly good. Men just didn't _say_ things like that. They never said 'breathtaking' instead of beautiful. They certainly never said they were 'enchanted'. Natasha supposed maybe that was why he seemed to be the first person to ever actually evoke any sort of real response from her. Bruce was different. She hadn't even thought to tell him she wanted to continue whatever they had started a week ago when he had first kissed her, not until he went and made her weapons. She found it to be the most oddly endearing thing anyone had done for her.

And then he told her that she made his heart beat faster. It was adorable in the dorkiest of ways, something that he seemed to be an expert at, even if he didn't realize it. "Does that not work? Um... Captivated?"

She knew she was giving him an odd look now.

"Bewitched?" he offered up next.

She actually felt the corners of her lips twitching after that one.

"Charmed?" he tried.

"Bruce..." and she knew she was rolling her eyes when she drawled out his name with the tiniest smile.

"Mesmerized."

She couldn't help the small laugh now before she smacked him lightly on the chest, "Knock it off."

Bruce just gave her one his signature and quirky little smiles and she knew he was about to say something else equally as ridiculous. "I'm not leaving now just because you're feeling a little twitchy," came his joking repetition of a more serious moment years earlier.

Natasha really wanted to be able to smile at that but instead she simply turned her head away from the grip he had on her chin and laid back against the headboard. "Alright... so you're staying," she murmured as he nodded his agreement. "Then I guess I'll just apologize now," she added.

"For what? Trying to get me to run away?"

"Sure, I guess that can be implied with it," she stated numbly, "But I meant for later, when Stark triggers me." She could see the confusion written all over his face and she sighed, "Bruce, you haven't seen me at my worst. That me? _That's_ my worst and if I can't kill you, then I will purposely try to hurt you, probably with the very things you've shared with me about...everything."

Bruce nodded a little at that, "Alright... well...if that happens, then for future reference, you're already forgiven."

Natasha wasn't entirely sure she believed that would still be true when it happened, but she faked a believable smile before she pressed her lips to his cheeks and then moved to rest her head on his shoulder, "Thanks."

"Anytime..."

She sort of doubted that too.

* * *

Bruce learned the hard way about two and a half days later that Natasha apologized ahead of time for good reason. She and Tony didn't tell him they started trying to find the trigger, he found _that_ out the hard way as well. Bruce had only just stepped into the lab when he heard them talking.

"Nothing. Again. Jarvis, how many variables have we tried?"

"That was number three hundred and forty-two, sir."

There was a disdainful sigh that came from Natasha and Bruce found himself shaking his head before her next comment, "I'm done for today, my ears are going to be ringing for the next two weeks. Just open the door." Bruce wasn't all that certain, but she sounded strange, not at all herself. The warning bells all went off in his head but it seemed Tony didn't fall for it.

Tony glanced up with a raised eyebrow and narrowed eyes, "Yeah...no."

"You noticed the change, too?" Bruce questioned as he stepped up to Tony's desk.

Natasha settled them with a rather predatory little smirk that gave him the chills, then she made it worse with her comment, "That's adorable, really it is. You think you can read me, Doctor?"

Bruce gave her a slightly annoyed look, "I think you haven't called me Doctor since before we were friends."

"Friends?" she scoffed a little, "Is that all? I was under the impression you liked me more than that."

He blew out a frustrated breath at that.

Tony made it a million times worse, "I hate to say this but Robotasha has a point."

Natasha just snickered and strode towards them with a little sway that made Bruce gulp as she came to a stop at the glass. She was standing right in front of him now and those empty eyes bore an animosity that he wasn't sure any single person was actually capable of. "If I had gotten out, would you have been willing to hurt me?" she questioned with a coy little smile. Her eyes looked him up and down like he was prey for her to devour and _this_ Natasha was more terrifying than the one who sent his heartbeat skyrocketing over just a kiss. "I might have liked it," she purred next and _that_ was enough for him to take a step away from the glass.

"Too bad he didn't let me out," Natasha murmured as her eyes stalked the billionaire across the lab, "You're a bit like a rat, Stark. Terribly annoying but extremely satisfying once you _kill_ it."

Bruce had seen more sides to Natasha than he ever imagined he might, but this side, this side was cold and calculating. This version of her only wanted death and since she couldn't find a way to actually murder somebody she simply used her words.

"Well, aren't you just a fun-filled little lollipop triple dipped in psycho?" and Bruce somehow found the sheer will _not_ to laugh at the comment. "Sticks and stones, Romanoff," Tony sang out as he switched frequencies to lower ones.

She snickered slightly as she folded her arms across her chest before Bruce watched Natasha's eyes shift back to him. "Tell me something, Doc. How can you be so certain that _I'm_ not the real Natasha?" she questioned.

"You're not."

"Who are you to say which side of me deserves to come out and play?" came the next question. " _I_ was here first. _I_ was the first twenty years."

"So the last ten just don't matter?" Bruce questioned as he studied her.

Her eyes narrowed slightly at that, "Are you really worried about my last ten years, Bruce? Or just the last ten days?" That smirk on her lips turned a little more playful, "Guarantee if you come in here that I can be just as interesting, and if you let me out, I can me much, much more interesting. I can offer more than just a little kiss."

"Ignore her," Tony called out from behind the computer, "She's not even the first twenty-years. She's mental programming, nothing more."

Natasha gave a murderous scowl in Tony's direction, "So you say."

Bruce watched as Tony held up the Red Room file and waved it at her, "So this says."

"Tony," Bruce chastised with a sigh. Maybe there was some other way to get through to her than hoping his friend found the frequency to cure Natasha of her 'Other Guy'. Other girl? _No._ Other lady? _No._ There was no decent way to put that. This was just 'Black Widow' through and through, sitting in his cage, looking more hostile than perhaps even The Hulk himself. He wasn't sure if the increased anger was for self-preservation or if Tony, as per usual, just brought out a more enraged side of her.

Tony motioned him over and Bruce frowned as he did so. Once he was close enough the billionaire whispered an admittance, "Been watching her brainwave patterns. Those patterns changed the moment the 'switch flipped'. You talking sort of makes it flicker back and forth... keep going."

That was surprising enough to hear but he went along with it for now as he moved back to the glass. Unfortunately Natasha had that little smirk mixed with empty eyes that told him something horrible was about to come out of her mouth, "Back to defend my honor, Doctor? Hoping that will bring me out of this 'shell' of my former self?" He frowned further as she placed a hand on the glass before him and he studied it with uncertainty. Once again, she contradicted one thing by doing another though. The gesture with her hand was almost gentle and simple but then she spoke, "You really think this little 'thing' here between us will work? Do you _really_ think that this honesty policy you suggested is something I'm even capable of? I guarantee that I'm always lying. It's what I do." Natasha turned and gave Tony a pointed look, "It's _programmed_ into me."

It stung more than he thought it would, and he wasn't sure exactly what he expected her to say, but that certainly wasn't it.

"That's still not Natasha, Bruce. Don't listen to her," Tony insisted.

And she wasn't done yet, because clearly if she couldn't kill or physically maim, she would do it verbally without missing a beat, "Do you want the truth?"

"Sure," Bruce stated. He really didn't want to hear any more of what she had to say, but he just needed to remember this wasn't _really_ Natasha.

She snickered at the answer before making a simplistic statement of her own, "We won't work."

It stung again but it shouldn't have considering that was the number one thing he kept thinking to himself since all of this started. "Yeah..."

"Bruce..." came Tony's warning comment but Bruce just waved him off.

"Don't get me wrong," Natasha informed him next as she stepped away from the glass and took a seat on the chair in the center of the glass cell. She crossed one leg over the other and tilted her head to the side a little as she looked at him before speaking again, "You are rather adorable in that 'I really hate myself' way. I can see me in you and if you flip the switch back, I'll go back to hating myself too, then we can live self-loathingly ever after. How does that sound, Doctor?"

 _Not Natasha. Not Natasha._ "And hating everything else is a better choice?" he dared to ask.

"Murder doesn't always coincide with hate," and a perverse little slanted smile formed on her lips, "It can be fun, in fact, I rather enjoy it."

"I'm sure..." Bruce mumbled with a shake of his head.

"Still don't think I'm a terrible person?" she questioned. "How about we discuss what happens when you're forced to either open that door or let me die in here?" came her next thought. "When you decide you're not willing to let me wither away in here, and you let me out, the first thing I'm going to do is kill Stark. It'll be slow and painful, but I'll let you watch, Doctor," she added with a careless little smile.

"Normal Natasha isn't a terrible person," Tony answered without a hint of worry about her threat to snuff him, "She's crazy, but just when I thought I reached the bottom level of crazy in her, you popped out and proved there's an insane little underground garage filled with dead bodies and disturbing threats to maim, torture and murder people."

Bruce sighed a little at that.

"That's just women in general, Stark," Natasha replied with a smirk, "We're chock full of crazy."

"Hmmm... well, _our_ Natasha isn't _just_ a woman," Tony replied with the barest little shrug. "Unlike your sadistic little minx of a self; she's a big cup of clever, covered in awesome sauce, with a splash of bitch and just a dash of crazy." Bruce had to admit he wasn't sure if any of that wasn't actually sarcasm but he didn't bother to say that out loud.

She snorted at that but decided to ignore Tony when she decided her attention was apparently better spent on Bruce himself. He cringed inwardly at whatever she might be able to throw out at him next but this one didn't hurt so much since he already knew the answer, "Do you really think I could love you?"

Bruce just shook his head at that, "No." That seemed to annoy her just a little that he didn't give her another answer to that question and he gave a halfhearted little chuckle, "That's one thing you've never hidden from...anybody. Love is for children, your exact words, and you were never a child." There was that flicker of recognition in her eyes for just a moment that gave him hope but it faded just as easily. When he glanced back at Tony he could see the billionaire looking a little weary. He must have had that same brief moment of hope at seeing the brainwave patterns change as Bruce had when the hollowness in her eyes faded for a moment.

"Then why bother if you know that? Why try to get behind the walls when you know I won't ever feel that way for a monster?"

 _Not Natasha. Definitely not Natasha..._ Given that it was his own thoughts on the subject simply being voiced by her, it hurt more than anything else she had said yet and given the pleased little smile she wore, he had a feeling she was well aware of that. He could actually feel Tony's eyes burning a hole in the back of his head but Bruce figured this was the best time to broach the subject of his own thoughts. "You know, Nat, since all of this started I try to see myself through your eyes..." and she looked uninterested in whatever he was about to say even if it was a comment he had made to her just before the mission that _led_ to this Natasha. But this time he finished his thought, "But when I do that I just sit here and think to myself ' _why_?'. You could have anybody you want and I can't understand what you see in a monster like me."

For half a second she looked like she might comment harshly once again, but those green eyes blinked a few times and he saw the voids fill with what looked like pained regret, and Natasha was back on her feet and moving towards him. "That's not even remotely true and even if it was, Bruce, then you clearly aren't seeing things through my eyes. You look at yourself through this cracked little mirror and you can't see anything else except what _you_ think of yourself, and no offense, your opinion sucks," she told him as she placed her hand on the glass.

That actually made him chuckle a little in relief before he glanced back over at Tony and when the billionaire nodded, that relief grew substantially, so Bruce turned back to Natasha behind the glass. He gave the smallest shrug as he placed his hand on the glass over hers.

She blinked several more times and then a more familiar slanted smile formed at one corner of her lips, "Bruce, did you just manipulate me?"

"A little," he admitted.

He heard Tony guffaw behind the computer, "Great, you're turning Bruce into a spy. Even I thought he was serious."

Natasha shook her head slightly and Bruce had a feeling she saw the the manipulation for what it was. It was multitasking. Partially to get through to her, partially to say what he really thought.

"Can you just open the—" Bruce didn't even get to finish that comment before Natasha cut him off.

"No. Not yet...make sure that my triple-dipped self stays where she is first..."

"Natasha..."

"An hour. At least..." she insisted.

Tony cleared his throat at that as he glanced between the two of them, "Right. Well, I'll come back in an hour then."

Bruce watched him go before he turned back to Natasha who was wearing that knowing look. "It wasn't all a manipulation, was it?" she questioned. At the shake of his head he saw her sigh. "You're not a monster, Bruce," came the comment the moment Tony was gone and before he could even think to correct her on that she was continuing, "and neither is the Big Guy."

"Natasha—"

"If you're a monster then what does that make me?" she questioned next.

He was about to answer that but then he narrowed his eyes slightly as she rubbed at her temples and closed her eyes, "Are you alright?"

She gave the smallest sideways nod, "Just a headache. Look...about everything I said—"

"Don't apologize, you already did that," Bruce reminded her. "And you're not a monster either..." he added. There was one question gnawing at him, "Do you...really hate yourself?"

Her silence was the only answer he really needed and she scrunched her nose up a little before she spoke again, "This is why I didn't tell you we were starting this."

If there was ever a time to push answers from her, this was probably the time to do it since she couldn't run away, but he thought better of it. Instead he gave her the smallest smile, "Well... good thing I showed up anyways. Doesn't look to me like you and Tony came up with a bathroom plan..."

Natasha snorted out the smallest laugh at that as she shook her head. "You know what? We really didn't..." she admitted with a bemused look.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"No," she admitted with a frown, "And much as I appreciate you talking me out of that, it means we still need to do this again and find the actual trigger, unless you think you can magically convince my insane self to talk it out and not kill Tony when I'm not trapped behind glass."

"Maybe make a bathroom plan for that..." he suggested. She didn't smile this time, or react at all, and Bruce frowned at that, "You're really not okay..."

She gave the smallest little shake of her head.

"It wasn't you, Natasha."

"Wasn't it?" she questioned as she moved away and sat back in the chair. "Anything I said might have been out of my control, but I didn't _feel_ different than I used to..." she released with a sigh.

"How did you feel?"

She shrugged at that, "Empty and angry."

"When did you stop feeling that way?" he dared to ask.

Natasha blinked a few times, "Before this?" There was something to that comment but he let her get it out as he nodded his head in response. "I stopped feeling that way when Clint dragged me to SHIELD. He gave me a friend, taught me how to trust, and gave me something to fight for. And I held onto all of that right up until I realized I was working for HYDRA. I felt that way again for over two months and then Tony left me on that stupid airstrip in India," and she scrunched up her nose a little at that, "which also sort of made me angrier."

Bruce chuckled at that.

"You're the first person who heard me have a nightmare and dared to walk in to try and help," she finally told him. "Admittedly, that sort of pissed me off too..." and he grinned at that, "but...only at the time." Something was definitely bothering her and apparently she decided a glass barrier between them would make for a good time to bring it up, "Do you really think we won't work?"

He opened his mouth to deny that before he remembered that he _had_ already agreed with her angrier half's statement to that fact. Instead he just went with the answer that came right to mind, "I don't know."

Natasha gave him a sad smile, "Yeah, me neither."

That made him chuckle, "Wasn't this your idea?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm not exactly an expert on this."

That was when he remembered he was at least one-up on her on the 'relationships' scale. Natasha had never been in love or formed a relationship, not to his knowledge, yet somehow the closed off spy and assassin had decided she wanted a 'this' with _him_. Bruce was the one making this hard on them and now this glass barrier was even more annoying than it was before. "Jarvis, open the cell," he requested.

"Since Miss Romanoff's brainwaves still match with...herself, I shall open it for you, Doctor."

Sure enough, Jarvis opened it and Bruce stepped through the open door and over to the chair. He crouched down in front of her at the chair, "I haven't really been all that...I mean I didn't really think to try anything with anyone since—I definitely didn't expect you..." his explanation was coming out fragmented and apparently he wasn't any better at explaining this to her.

Apparently that upped her mood though because her 'real' smile appeared as she shook her head at him, "You really are a dork, Bruce."

"And you really do like that, don't you?" he questioned in amused disbelief.

She had on another slanted little smile and he huffed out a little laugh before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for just a second. When she pulled away she agreed, "I kind of do."

"That scares the crap out me me..." it made Natasha snicker. "You sort of scare the crap out of me. And a relationship scares me more. The Other Guy doesn't really do relationships."

"Bruce," she stopped him short and held his chin in her fingertips before she continued, "it doesn't need a definition. We don't need a definition, or to be a relationship, or whatever. I don't need more, remember?"

"Yeah...yeah, I remember."

"If I decide I do, you'll be the first to know."

"Is there gonna be a code word or a code phrase for that?"

Natasha snorted out a laugh as she released his chin, "Sure. There can be a code phrase for that." She looked more relaxed than she had since returning to herself and at least that made him feel a little better too. "If I decide I need more, or want more, I'll ask you a question," came her next comment.

"And the question would be...?"

"I'll ask you if I should fight it or if I should run with it," she told him with a smile, "And then it'll be your move."

He gave a small nod to that, "Alright."

"Alright."

"Psychobitch me is exhausting by the way," she added with a chuckle.

"I bet," he couldn't help but give an amused shake of his head at that.

"Hey, Romanoff, Barton's on the phone and says he needs your help to fly the coop? His words, not might, I swear," came Tony's voice as his head popped through the doors to the lab, "Want me to have Jarvis sync him over the lab's speakers?"

Bruce watched as Natasha chuckled a little, "Sure."

Tony disappeared just as quickly as Jarvis' voice rang out, "Mister Barton, you are on with Miss Romanoff and Doctor Banner."

"Thanks Jarvis. Nat, Banner," came the archer's greeting.

"Hey," came their collective response at once.

Apparently Clint decided to ignore their synchronized greeting or didn't notice, "So, Stark sent me a message that said assemble? In which case, you know, I'm going to need you to spring me from the coop."

Bruce gave an odd look at that and watched as Natasha gave a rather unladylike snort of laughter as she shook her head, "Alright."

"You have time?"

"Sure...I'll see you in," she scrunched up her nose. "I need sleep first... so, two days."

Silence came over the speaker for a moment before Clint thought to reply to that, "Did you just admit to being a human being that requires sleep?"

"Jarvis, hang up on him now."

"Hey!"

"Certainly, Miss Romanoff."

Bruce couldn't hold back the laugh as he heard the click of Jarvis hanging up on Clint.

"You tired?" she questioned.

He smiled a little at that, "Yeah..." He stood back up and held a hand out to help her up and out of the chair. She took it without thought and he remembered not that long ago when he took her bag to be helpful and thought she might physically harm him for it. She didn't release his hand as she tugged him towards the lab's exit, "Your bed or mine?"

"Did you just proposition me?"

And that made his face red all over again especially when she gave him that coy little smile.

* * *

 **Let's thank SweetChi for the role-reversal idea here :) I loved it. Hope I did alright with that idea!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note** : I know, longest wait yet for a chapter, but I wrote seven different versions of this chapter before I went with this version. And I honestly lost track of who I replied to and didn't reply to review-wise when the site was being an evil-spawn and not letting me reply to them, so I'm sorry if I didn't reply to some of you. I was banging my head on the wall over everything lately, haha.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy a slightly calmer chapter.

 **Chapter 23** :

Bruce woke up alone, and given that the other side of the bed was cold, Natasha had disappeared hours ago. It probably wasn't fair to wonder where she was, but given what had happened, he couldn't help but to be worried. He had no reason to think she hadn't just left without a word to go and 'fly Barton from the coop', but he hoped she hadn't, so he asked, "Jarvis, is Natasha still in the tower?"

"She is, Doctor. Miss Romanoff is currently—" and there was an awkward silence from the AI before Jarvis finished the comment, "dancing in the training center."

Bruce felt his brow ruffle at the comment. "She's...dancing?"

"Yes, Doctor Banner."

He shook his head a little at that before rolling to his feet and pulling on fresh clothes. He padded slowly to the door and onto the elevator as he headed down towards the training center. Confused as he was about the 'dancing', he wasn't sure if he should actually go down there, it felt a little like intruding on something personal. Bruce wasn't sure that he was allowed to go and intrude of personal things yet, not without her consent, but then wouldn't she do it somewhere that didn't have access from the other Avengers? Either way, the opening doors of the elevator led to a sight he wasn't sure would ever leave his brain, it would be eternally burned into the back of his mind.

No music, no fancy clothes; just her hair in a ponytail, bare feet, yoga pants and a tank top. The music was only for her to hear, coming through earbuds attached to the ipod clipped at her waist. Ballet was something he had seen a few times and she was doing a rather impressive and gracefully stunning Adagio. It was soft and slow, her movements never ended, and it generated the perfect illusion that one position flowed directly into the next.

This was something Bruce had never known that Natasha could do, especially not so well, it was like watching a professional. Everything was perfectly executed, her grace in ballet was as fluid as her grace in battle, and he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

And then she faltered in an insanely amazing pirouette, cursed in Russian and she looked...disappointed. "Natasha? Are you alright?" he dared to question. She didn't look at all surprised to hear him as and he supposed she had known the moment he stepped inside the room, but she also didn't answer, instead he watched as she started from the beginning. Several minutes, exactly as beautiful before, and she faltered in exactly the same spot. Another string of curses left her lips before she started for a _third_ time. At least it was the third time since he was here, God only knew how long she had been doing this. "Natasha." Nothing. She ignored him as she moved through the motions all over. And over. And over. She did it six times. She didn't falter again, not that he could tell, but she still looked angry and disappointed with herself. She was about to start for the seventh time when Bruce couldn't handle it any longer. He moved forward and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Natasha..." he tried again.

She yanked the earbuds out and finally looked at him, _really_ looked at him, and he wasn't sure what to make of what he saw in her eyes now. "What?" she questioned.

It was an empty voice, hollow eyes, a void expression and eerily like when she had first shown up in Bahir. "How long have you been doing this?" he asked quickly.

"I need to finish, let me finish, I need to get it right," was her only answer as she pulled away and put the earbuds back in.

He pulled them back out, "Natasha, you need to stop. Why are you doing this?"

"It needs to be right. It needs to be perfect."

Bruce frowned at that and moved around it front of her. He placed his hands on either side of her face and forced her to look back at him, "It was perfect, Natasha. It was perfect. Like you."

"It wasn't, it wasn't, I'm not. I need to get it right," she insisted.

"You don't need to do that, you need to sit because—because you didn't tape your feet, you're lucky they aren't bleeding," he told her quickly and she stared down at feet. She shook her head and moved to step away again and he had to stop her once more. "Natasha, _stop_! Stop, please..." and she blinked a few times at him before some semblance of sense seemed to come back to her. "Alright, alright come on..." he kept his voice gentle as he pulled her to sit down on one of the benches. He crouched down in front of her and kept his eyes on hers, "Why are you doing this?"

She opened her mouth to answer and then promptly closed it as she shook her head a little. His worried face must have been enough because she parted her lips and finally answered, "It was just a dream. Or maybe a memory. I...I'm not sure."

"Of what?"

"Dancing, or failing at it anyways."

"You...danced?" he asked next.

Natasha gave a small nod at that, "It wasn't just about ballet. Not for Red Room. It taught a lot of things, discipline being the main one."

"And the dream?" he dared to ask next.

"I was..." she paused and looked away with a sigh. "I was thirteen and I couldn't get it right," she admitted. "I was good, really good, but I couldn't get it right. Every single time I faltered it was...it was bad."

Bruce found himself faltering now. He knew what she meant by that. He knew that Natasha was saying that when she messed up the dance that she got punished, very likely painfully so, and it was wrong on so many levels. He placed his hand back on the side of her face, "They can't hurt you, Natasha. Not anymore."

And by the blank look on her face he knew that wasn't entirely true. They hurt her all the time, even ten years later, they still hurt her. Nikolao Constantin, the file from Red Room, and even her trigger. She couldn't escape her past any better than he could. His own past came out in the form of a giant green rage monster, and lately, General Thaddeus Ross. They were both being tormented and it was no wonder they were getting along the way they were. Tortured souls often became kindred spirits and they were both tortured.

Maybe he just needed to do something to make her feel better, to get her mind off of it, because the mask of indifference she wore told him she wasn't going to talk about it further. He was lucky that she even bothered to say what little she did. "I can dance." The empty expression flipped in an instant and she gave him this absurd and hilariously incredulous look. "Hey, I can do it. Not your kind of dance, but I can dance."

"Yeah...I don't think you can dance," she answered with the smallest smile.

He took that as a dare, "Oh...I could dance."

She gave him something akin to a stink eye, "Prove it. Jarvis, put on some music."

"Any preference?" came Jarvis' reply.

Bruce just shrugged.

"Apparently not," Natasha answered with the tiniest smirk.

"No judging," Bruce warned her. "Jarvis, play Walk the Line."

"Of course, Doctor."

Natasha chuckled, "Johnny Cash? Well...alright then." And he stepped away and did the most ridiculous move in the world. To his enjoyment, the laugh from Natasha's lips was almost instantaneous. "Bruce," and she snorted out another laugh as he kept going, "Are you doing the sprinkler?"

"I've got moves," he answered with a cheeky grin.

The grin on her lips was worth it and then he switched causing her to laugh even harder, "No. No, no, stop," she huffed out in a laugh as she stood up and stopped his 'roll the dice' move. "Stop and never ever do that again," she told him with the amusement still clear in her eyes. "Don't you know how to actually dance?" came the next question.

"Haven't done it in a while, but I think I could manage," he answered with a small shrug.

"Okay then," she replied with a smile, placing each of his hands on her waist before wrapping her arms around his neck, "Let's dance."

"Oh—oh, uh...sure," Bruce mumbled out. This wasn't exactly the best song for it but he went along with it when she rested her face in the crook of his neck and he swayed with her. "I was probably better at the sprinkler."

She let out a breathy little laugh on his neck, "It was a good sprinkler, Bruce." And he chuckled but kept quiet after that, even when Jarvis switched the song to something more appropriate without being asked. Tony's AI was definitely thoughtful, there was no doubt about it. "Thanks, by the way, for snapping me out of that."

"You had a...bad day yesterday," he answered without thought. "You're allowed to freak out and dance like a ballerina zombie."

"I couldn't sleep, so after you fell asleep, I went to the theater room. I watched a movie, must have fallen asleep during it, and then I had that dream...and then suddenly you were in here, yelling at me to stop."

Bruce was quiet at that for a moment, "Are you alright now?"

"Trust me...I was better the second you did the sprinkler," she answered with a small laugh.

"Do me a favor? Never tell Tony about that."

"Done."

And he would honestly stay there forever, swaying to whatever song was playing that he wasn't paying attention to, and for that moment he really wished he could have more than a _thing_ with someone. With her. Bruce had kept worrying that she would need and want more only to realize he was the one who needed and wanted more. That was something he would have to keep to himself. This supposed thing hadn't even been going on for that long, it wouldn't be right to bring it up now even if he could have more, it probably wasn't even right to have whatever this was now. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it wasn't fair, but wrong felt right.

Natasha felt right.

And that was a little scary. Nothing had felt right in a long time, right always seemed to go wrong, and wrong was something he was very used to.

* * *

Natasha was still exhausted even when she arrived at Clint's family home. Sleep wouldn't come to her no matter how much she tried and Bruce had laid down with her for hours before she had given in, liberated Tony's jet, and taken off to Iowa. She let out a breath of frustration before she was close enough for it to be obvious and then made her way towards the front of the house. She only made it to the fence before the front door swung open and her biggest fan came bounding out of it.

"Auntie Nat!"

Natasha chuckled as the little girl came running and she grabbed hold of the speeding tiny person and hauled the giggling child over her shoulder as she continued her trek to the front door. "You know what? Eventually you're gonna be too big for these shenanigans, kiddo," she informed Lila as she walked through the open front door.

"Aunt Nat, hey!" Cooper chimed in with a grin.

Natasha put Lila back on her feet, kissed her forehead and then got enveloped in Cooper's bone crushing hug. "Now where's your mom and dad, hmm?"

"Mom's lecturing dad on being safe," Cooper explained casually and Natasha laughed in an instant, even harder with his next comment, "You're laughing now, but she's gonna lecture you too."

She didn't doubt that for a moment, especially when both kids giggled at her, "She can lecture me all she wants. I come here just to hear her lectures."

"Liar!" they both claimed at once and she chuckled.

Natasha pressed her index finger to her lips and shushed them. "Now, what are we doing while your father gets lectured?" she asked them with a grin.

"Movie!" Lila shouted in an instant. "Can we watch Frozen?"

"You're _always_ watching Frozen," Cooper complained with a groan.

Natasha snickered as Lila grasped her hand and pulled her into the living room, "Frozen first, then Cooper's choice next."

"Yes!" Cooper followed after them in an instant and Natasha shook her head in amusement as she found herself seated on the couch with a kid pressed into either side of her.

She almost wished that she had shown up sooner, right after she had been back to herself. The Barton kids were cathartic for her and they always had been, and Natasha supposed that was the reason why she didn't remember anything twenty minutes into Frozen. The next thing she knew her eyes were fluttering open because Clint was pulling her off the couch.

"You weren't kidding when you said you needed sleep, eh, partner?" and she huffed out what might have been a laugh before resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes again. "You alright, Nat?"

"Yeah..." she mumbled.

It was silence again as she drifted back to darkness until she found herself in the bed of the guest room, or rather, her room. The only place she's ever stayed that held pictures of her. Pictures of her and the kids. Pictures that were drawn for her. Regardless of being awake and aware, she rolled over on her side and feigned otherwise.

"She usually never sleeps," came Laura's voice.

"Yeah, I know. Something happened."

"As opposed to the nothing that usually happens? There's no SHIELD anymore, Clint. Maybe you guys need to throw in the towel, hang up your capes, leave being the heroes to supersoldiers and gods and billionaires in metal suits," Laura suggested.

Natasha would be damned but it sounded like a half-way decent idea with the way things had been going lately. Unfortunately, retiring wouldn't help her wipe out her ledger, she at least needed to see this scepter thing through.

Clint seemed to know her thoughts, sort of, "Natasha won't do that."

"You should."

And Natasha sort of agreed with Laura because unlike her, Clint had a reason to give up the Avenging business, and he had another reason on the way.

"Lila, sweetie, don't wake up Aunt Natasha," Laura called but it was clearly too late.

Natasha felt the bed bounce in an instant and turned to see Lila crawling under the covers next to her. "It's okay if I nap with you, right, Auntie Nat?"

"Absolutely, Lilabug," she answered as she tugged the little girl closer and hugged her.

"And when we get up we can play princess?"

"You bet," Natasha agreed with a smile, "And have a tea party."

"Can't forget the tea party," Lila agreed as she snuggled further into her side.

Natasha glanced over at Clint giving her that shit-eating grin. "You're grinning now, but you won't be when you're wearing a princess crown, Barton."

Laura laughed in an instant and grabbed her husband's hand, "Let's go. Let them take their nap."

"Oh sure, Natasha gets to nap, I get more safety lectures," her best friend grumbled.

Natasha shook with silent laughter and grinned at Lila's giggle as Clint and Laura left down the hall. She tugged the little girl closer, closed her eyes, and let the drowsiness take over.

She supposed it wasn't all that long later that she woke up given that there was still plenty of daylight out and Lila was still cuddled up against her side. Apparently said little girl was already awake because she sat up on the bed and turned to her in an instant, "Princess tea party time?"

"Princess tea party time," Natasha agreed with a smile.

"YES!" Lila hooted out as she rolled off the bed and made a beeline out of the room.

Natasha chuckled as she stretched and got out of the bed as well. She only made it out the bedroom door when she came face to face with Laura. "Hey," she greeted the wife of her best friend.

"Hey, you look better," Laura replied with that warm smile.

"Feel better too," Natasha assured her.

"You can have your lecture later," Laura told her, "Go play princess tea party. And if the world could hear me say that to the infamous Black Widow of the Avengers..."

Natasha laughed in an instant, "I don't think one living soul would ever believe it." She listened to Laura snicker as she made her way down the hall and into Lila's bedroom. The moment she was inside she arched an eyebrow at the sight inside. It was only three minutes between leaving her own room and making it to this one and yet Clint sat at a child's table with a crown on, Lila already had on a princess dress, and Cooper was holding a plastic purple magic wand. "Wow, kiddo. You got your brother in here too, that's some serious skill."

Lila grinned and held up her index finger, "Got 'em wrapped around my finger, Auntie Nat, just like you taught me."

Clint chuckled, "I hate you, Nat."

She winked at her partner and accepted the princess crown and wand that was handed to her. She placed the crown atop her head, bopped Cooper on the head with her wand and took a seat at the table.

"And this is why this child gets your name," Laura stated from the doorway with a hand over her stomach, "I can never get all three in one place at one time and then you walk in the door, _bam_."

Natasha arched an eyebrow up as she looked from Laura over to Clint, "She's serious right now, isn't she?"

"Apparently you are our savior," Clint informed her, "Therefore my third child will be Natasha, and I'm totally okay with that."

"You can't name it Natasha," Lila told her parents with a ruffled brow, "Auntie Nat is Natasha. It can't steal her name. How do we tell them apart?"

Natasha snickered, "See? Even your child thinks this is a terrible idea."

Laura rolled her eyes, "Accept it, Nat. We're naming this kid after you."

"Fine, fine," Natasha agreed and waved the wand at her, "Name it after me, but when your third kid has a hundred and one problems, that's on you." She leaned down to Lila and spoke in a loud whisper, "And if your mom says Natasha peed or puked on her, it's safe to say she's probably talking about the baby."

Lila giggled.

"That's so gross," Cooper groaned out.

Clint was smirking.

"Mom, put your crown on," Lila ordered as she held up another crown.

"Ohh, I'm invited too?" Laura questioned.

Natasha smiled when Lila skipped up to her mother and handed a crown over, "Duh, you're _always_ invited."

And that was why she loved being here.

Then Lila yanked her hand. "I got something for you," the little girl whispered as she pulled her away from the table and towards her dresser. Natasha smiled again when Lila opened the drawer and handed something over, "For your friend."

Natasha laughed in an instant as she took the blank postcard that was handed over. "Went to go see Grandma?"

"Mmhmm."

"Thanks, Lila," she added with a grin. It _was_ a little funny. The left half showed part of Miami and then looked like it was ripped off where the ocean water should be and said, 'I spent so much money in Miami Beach that I could only afford half a postcard.'

The kid was a genius, but it sort of made her miss Bruce, and that was ridiculous given that she hadn't even been away from the tower for that long. She wasn't supposed to _miss_ him. _This_ wasn't supposed to be a thing where one of them missed the other.

* * *

"You look bored and unhappy, why do you look bored and unhappy?"

Bruce glanced up at Tony's question and arched an eyebrow up in uncertainty. "I'm not bored and unhappy," he insisted.

"You're bored, bored and unhappy," Tony insisted again. "You've been staring at that computer screen for the last three hours like a lovesick little puppy dog," he stated. "Nobody is around to interrupt the conversation, no redheaded assassin here to stab me, so... is this love, Bruceyboy?"

Bruce sighed and shut down the computer screen, "I'm not talking about this."

"I think you should," Tony informed him.

"It's not love, Tony," Bruce stated as he rubbed his eyes, "I don't know what it is."

"Dude, you did the sprinkler. You did the rolling the dice move. Have I taught you nothing?" Tony questioned.

"How the hell—"

Tony arched a knowing eyebrow up, "I have cameras everywhere."

"Right..."

Tony chuckled. "As your best friend, I'm reserving judgment, and I'm reserving said judgment because it was actually pretty damn hilarious and Red seemed to think so too." Bruce blew out a breath of frustration at the comment but the next one was unexpected, "All I'm saying is, you've got me to talk to about these things with, so...talk to me."

Bruce frowned a little before he sighed again and went with it, "I don't know what Natasha and I are. We just keep calling whatever we are _this_. She says she doesn't want or need more and...I can't have more."

"Sure you could."

"Tony..." Bruce chuckled sadly at that, "I can't. You know that, I know that, she knows that. It's physically impossible to have more. I almost went green when I kissed her, I think enough has been proven over that."

Tony smirked. "Again, as your friend, you just need time. So you have obstacles to deal with, obstacles aren't impossible, just difficult," came the unwarranted advice. "Bruce, women are women, eventually they want more."

"She was pretty clear," Bruce added, "She doesn't want more."

"Oh, she was definitely lying." Both Bruce and Tony turned to look at Pepper as she stared at them with that knowing look and Bruce turned to his friend with a look that said _'no interruptions, eh?'._ "I'm just saying, Tony wasn't wrong, us ladies always want more than we're willing to admit to you guys." Bruce smirked when Tony shifted uncomfortably and Pepper was grinning as she continued, "If you want I can feel her out when she gets back. See what she really thinks. Girl talk."

Tony looked somewhere between admonished and ready to laugh his ass off, "You think Romanoff will adhere to the laws of girl talk? Pepper, sweetie...I love you but you've lost your mind."

"You think you can do better?" Pepper questioned as she folded her arms over her chest.

Tony smirked, "The key, my dear, is to be drunk. She really opens up when you're drunk."

And Bruce gave him an odd look, noticing that Pepper was giving the exact same look. "Isn't that supposed to be the other way around?" Bruce questioned in curious amusement.

"Probably, but like I said, Natasha doesn't adhere to the natural law of girl talk. Or the law of girl in general, really. An engagement ring says your girl talk doesn't work," Tony informed them both.

Pepper arched an eyebrow up, "Let me get this straight, Tony. You're proposing to me through a bet?"

"Only if you win, if you lose, we have boatloads of fun in Malibu."

Bruce wasn't sure what was more surprising, that Tony thought that was an acceptable proposition, or that Pepper agreed to it with a grin.

"You're on."

They were the weirdest couple, or they could have been, if couples didn't include a guy who turned into a giant green rage monster, and a former KGB spy and assassin, to be the weirdest thing. It was a little hard for Bruce to decide which was actually more strange. And were they _actually_ a couple? They kept skirting around the conversation. He would ask, she would insist that they didn't need a definition. Maybe Pepper _could_ get the answers for him. Anything was worth a shot.

And Pepper was giving him the strangest look now. "You know, I heard that your opinion of you and Natasha was that you _can't_ have more. You didn't say that you didn't want to..."

Bruce bit down on his lower lip.

"Oh! And _that_ is why I love you, Pepper. See? I didn't catch that," Tony stated as he plopped his feet up on the desk. "So, do you _want_ more? And don't answer with the can't bullshit again."

This was getting horridly uncomfortable.

"You could always try a date," Pepper suggested.

"Last time we went somewhere outside the tower I turned green," he reminded them both.

Pepper rolled her eyes, "Because you didn't _know_ to be extra careful _._ Now you know."

"Not happening..." Bruce mumbled out as he shook his head.

"Then do something here," Tony suggested.

"Yes! Do something here," Pepper agreed.

And now it was a double team. Bruce rubbed at his eyes and leaned his head on the table a moment later. "We do things here already."

"Something that doesn't include platonically sleeping in the same bed or watching movies from before she was born," Tony ordered.

And that was a reminder he hadn't needed.

"Tony!" Pepper grumbled out. "Bruce, it's clear that she likes you, you don't have anything to worry about here. Whatever you're doing, just keep on doing it, she clearly likes it..."

Bruce lifted his head up and gave her a small smile, "Thanks. Apparently I'm a dork."

Pepper let out a heartfelt and warm little laugh, "You are. It's adorable."

Bruce watched as Tony gave his girlfriend an incredulous look, "Are you hitting on my best friend?"

"Yes, yes I am," Pepper answered without a hint of sarcasm, "He's charmed me. I'm going to steal him from an infamous assassin and believe that I'll live to see this steamy romance through. You don't mind though, right?"

"Of course not," Tony assured her and waved off the idea, "Play with my best friend at your will, just make sure you come to bed later."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "You're both terrible. I'm not sure why we're all still friends."

"Because you love us," Pepper stated as she came over and gave him a peck on the cheek, "But seriously. Think about that date. I'll get all the dirty details for you."

"Appreciate it...I think," Bruce stated with a small smile.

He watched as Pepper left the lab and then Tony spoke up again, "I'm gonna have to go buy a ring, aren't I?"

Bruce grinned at that, "She was really determined. You might have actually motivated her to make sure she got the information."

"Huh, well...better get started on that," Tony mumbled, "Wanna go ring shopping?"

"Not really my thing," Bruce stated with a chuckle.

Tony looked a little green around the edges, "Never thought it would be mine either..."

* * *

 **Sorry it also wasn't a super long chapter. But when you write one chapter 7 ways, you give people what you got so that the hazard stops. xD**


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note** : Yes, we are getting close to the end of this story :) hope you enjoy this latest installment.

Also, turns out I'm not going to Berberati for two weeks, blargh. So you guys are stuck with me and my lost dream. **:P**

 **Chapter 24** :

Natasha missed Laura and the kids within minutes of leaving the farm. She had stayed for a day and a half before deciding that they couldn't stay any longer. They had a job to do and though Laura's comment to Clint about giving it all up would be almost heavenly, heavenly wasn't something that Natasha deserved, she needed to keep fighting.

Time away had been a good thing. Things between herself and Bruce had sparked so suddenly that she had gotten caught up in it, caught in something that she said she never would, caught in a web of feelings that she brought upon herself. It had seemed like a good thing while it was happening, though she didn't understand why, she wouldn't know a good thing if it lit up as 'good thing' in bright neon lights. Natasha had told Tony that she wouldn't let her emotions get the better of her again, then Bruce had gifted her specially-crafted weapons, and further evoked her 'emotions'. He had said a lot of things in ways that tore at her blackened soul and shed the tiniest pin-light on it. Calling her breathtaking, saying she enchanted him; Natasha wasn't honed and crafted to fall for things like that. Red Room and the KGB had crafted her to feel nothing at all.

She honestly sure which one was worse, feeling whatever this was for Bruce, or feeling nothing at all. She needed this step back and away from Bruce to gain perspective, she needed these few days to get her head back on straight, though she wasn't certain it was working. It wasn't safe to feel anything for anyone and it would only lead to one of them getting hurt, probably Bruce. Feeling nothing was the safest route, it always had been, it probably always would be.

And Bruce was just too damned nice.

"This wasn't here last time I was on the jet."

She glanced up to see what Clint was talking about and then smirked at the 'Jarvis is my co-pilot' bumper sticker. "It wasn't there when I left either," she informed him.

Clint bellowed out a laugh, "Stark's gonna love it."

"Unfortunately, that's probably true," Natasha agreed with a chuckle.

"You weren't honest with me," he reminded her. She arched an eyebrow up slightly at his comment and he emphasized further, "When I asked if you were alright back on the farm." She felt her brow ruffle just a bit but she still didn't answer him. "Usually you don't sleep much at all when you stay over, yet you were asleep within a half hour of getting to the house, Nat."

"And then I didn't sleep again after that, it's nothing, Clint.."

"It's not nothing and we both know it. Something happened," Clint stated as he shifted to auto-pilot and came to take a seat next to her. "I know it's been a while, but talk to me," he added.

She smiled a little at the ridiculous little puppy-dog look he gave her as she shook her head. "I have a trigger that turns me into a complete psychopath," she told him bluntly, "I didn't know, not until I stabbed Rogers, tried to shoot him and then nearly killed Stark when I fried his suit."

"You...what?"

"Yeah, trust me, it surprised everyone," Natasha informed him as she leaned her head against the wall of the jet. "Also found my Red Room file," and that seemed to surprise Clint even more than the news about the trigger. "So...I haven't slept well."

Clint's eyes softened instantly, "Nat..."

"I'm just tired," she insisted.

Clint looked unsure, "How'd they snap you out of it?"

"Luck," she answered with a small shrug. "It was just noise, that was all it took, and I turned into everything I used to be. Worse than that, actually. What if that had happened anywhere else? A mission with just us? On the SHIELD base? At your _home,_ Clint, I could have—"

"First, it never did, so there's no point in beating a dead horse," he reminded her. "You've never, and would never hurt my family, Nat...you're _part_ of my family."

"I would if that trigger went off," she told him as she rubbed at her eyes.

Natasha felt Clint drape his arm across her shoulders and she sighed as he spoke again, "That why you're sleeping worse than usual?"

"It's all I can think about." That and the fact that she pathetically missed Bruce. She definitely needed to take more space from him even at the tower. It was all too much, too soon, too fast.

Clint seemed to see right through her, "That's all?"

"That's all."

He looked doubtful, but fortunately, he was her best friend for good reason. Clint knew when to drop subjects and he seemed to understand that this was one of those times. "Alright, so I take it Stark figured out the trigger?"

"He figured out how to activate it," Natasha answered with the barest of shrugs, "we still don't have the noise that deactivates it."

"And yet you're you..."

"Yeah," she stated, "Banner managed to talk me back into myself."

Clint arched an eyebrow up, "Banner did?"

She kept her expression schooled at that, "Ironic, I know."

He snickered, "That's one word for it. You and him finally getting along?"

"That's one way to put it," she mocked with a smirk. "We're friends, I guess," she informed him nonchalantly. Of course, 'friends' was putting it mildly, if 'friends' started sharing the bed and kissing. The former wasn't _too_ odd given that she and Clint often did that over the years, but she had never kissed him, though at one point she had thought she wanted to. Just when the idea that it _could_ work crossed her mind, he had introduced her to his wife and son, and reality reminded her that she had nothing to offer him or anyone else.

And what exactly did she have to offer Bruce? He had kissed her first, that much was obvious, but she had pursued _this_ , not Bruce. He reluctantly went along with it just before they went to Africa. That would be a mere nine days by the time they got back to the tower, more than half of which she hadn't even spent in his presence. _Why_ the hell had she so easily gotten attached to him?

The answer lingered for a moment before it came to her. It hadn't been sudden at all. Bruce had grown on her over a period of time, she just hadn't acknowledged it until he kissed her, which reminded her of one other thing; Bruce had only kissed _her_ once. Every other kiss they shared, she initiated, and they were all so simple and chaste. He admitted that he didn't know if they could actually work, and she had admitted the same...

Natasha thought that maybe it was time to admit that she wasn't cut out for a relationship. Bruce had been reluctant to all of it right up until she tried to push him away. He seemed determined to stay that day, just as he had been determined to make her feel better after that trainwreck of a nightmare before she came to the farm. She was letting herself rely on him, in ways that she didn't even allow herself to rely on Clint, and taking a few steps back was the only choice here.

She couldn't afford to lose herself to emotions and feelings.

"Have you talked to Rogers?"

"No," she answered as she rested her head on Clint's shoulder. "What was I supposed to say to him? 'Sorry I tried to kill you'?"

"Might be a good place to start," he offered up with a chuckle. "And he's Steve Rogers. He's not going to hold it against you."

Natasha supposed that was true enough. She would just have to give it a shot. She had avoided Steve and he had given her space to figure everything out. She supposed she should try to mend that bridge before it burned to ashes.

"Still tired?" Clint questioned.

"Exhausted."

"Get some sleep."

She frowned a little at the suggestion but kept quiet as she closed her eyes. Feigning sleep was useless with Clint, they both knew it, but he let her rest against him and pretend anyways. She waited a good thirty minutes before she broke the silence, "Laura wants you to quit."

He huffed out a small laugh, "I knew you were awake for that. And I pretty much have..." That was true enough. "Maybe I'll do it officially after we finish this."

"You should."

"So should you."

She smiled a little, "I'll put it up for debate." She waited a moment, "Okay, debated it, decided against it."

Clint barked out a laugh, "One of these days, Nat, you'll find a reason to quit."

She snorted at that.

* * *

As soon as Clint got off the jet with Natasha, the first person he saw in the tower was Bruce. The way the awkward scientist's face lit up just at the sight of his best friend was enough to catch his interest, though when he turned to her, she was the epitome of neutrality. Clint rolled his eyes at her and nudged her with his elbow.

"What?" she questioned with a small quirk of her eyebrow.

Clint snickered before he clamped a hand on Bruce's shoulder as they walked up to him, "I hear you two are finally friends."

"Uh..." Bruce scratched the back of his head in obvious discomfort, "Yeah. I mean..." Clint chuckled when the scientist looked at Natasha with a little uncertainty before he asked her, "Right?"

Clint rolled his eyes again at her. She really needed to figure out how friendship worked when it wasn't with Clint himself. "The answer to that is," and he forced his voice into a higher pitch, " _Yes, Banner. Nice to see you again_."

Natasha shot him a dark look before she looked back to Bruce and mocked his voice, "Yes, Banner. Nice to see you again."

Clint had to give Bruce credit because the man looked highly entertained when the corners of his lips twitched into a grin. It seemed he didn't mind the bottomless void that usually encompassed Natasha's expression and that was impressive enough.

"Could we talk?" came Bruce's next question.

Clint glanced from the scientist to Natasha as she simply shrugged indifferently. "Maybe later," was her only answer as she stepped around him and went to the elevator.

Bruce frowned immediately and Clint watched as he looked back to him, "Did she sleep?"

That was surprising enough, but he supposed if Bruce and Natasha really were friends, then the other man would know _something_. "Yeah."

"But not much."

"Nope," Clint answered again. "Don't be to deterred with her rejection to talk, Doc. She gets like that," he explained with a smile. "I've known her ten years and she does it to me all the time. You get used to it. When she doesn't want to talk, she won't."

"Got it."

"But hey, it takes a lot for Natasha to say someone is her friend," Clint reassured him, "so congratulations on that."

He looked a little sheepish, "She said we were friends?"

"Well, she said friends, 'sort of'. That's about as friendly as Natasha gets," Clint assured him with a laugh. Still, he could see the way Bruce cringed at that, "Sorry. Look, I get it, man. She's hard to be friends with, but once you're friends, she's worth the trouble."

And Bruce smiled at that, "Glad you're back, Barton."

"Me too," Clint agreed with a chuckle.

* * *

When the knock sounded at her door, Natasha expected Bruce or Clint, she did _not_ expect Pepper when she opened the door. Both her eyebrows arched up immediately at the other woman who smiled warmly and held up a pizza box and a bottle of wine, "I thought we could hang out. All that testosterone can't be good for you."

Natasha felt her lips quirk into an unbidden smile before she reluctantly stepped aside and let her in. "I guess," she agreed, if only because it seemed wrong not to. In a few months Pepper had only once entered into Natasha's room, which left her with one thought, that there was an ulterior motive behind this one.

Pepper didn't leave that ulterior motive as something to question for very long as she came in and sat down with her on the couch. "Bruce keeps harping like a girl about how he doesn't know what you two are," she stated as she opened the pizza box. "See, Bruce talks to Tony about these things, Tony talks to me and then I just sit here and think... who do you talk to?"

"I'm not sure I understand where this is going," Natasha told her as she took a slice of pizza from the box, took a bite, and chewed Pepper's words over literally and figuratively. "Why does it matter who I talk to?"

Pepper looked a little befuddled for a moment. "We all need someone to talk to about things," she insisted.

"I talk to Barton."

Pepper chuckled, "Yeah—so did you talk to Barton about Bruce?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes a little, "I told him we were friends."

"So you lied. You need someone to talk to who isn't of the male variety."

Normally that was something that Natasha did with Laura, but what she told Laura, Clint would know too. She eyed Pepper in uncertainty as she took another bite of the pizza. "I don't need to talk," she informed her.

Pepper didn't look like she minded as she ate her own slice of pizza, "You don't have to, it was just an offer, but maybe you don't mind if I talk?"

Natasha's brow wrinkled a little in response before she sighed, "I'll go get the wine glasses then."

This wasn't about Pepper needing to talk, or wanting to hear about Natasha's feelings, it was obvious that the other woman was here to scope things out on Bruce's behalf. In a way it was nice to know that Pepper cared for Bruce enough to do it, but on the other hand, it was a little sad that she thought she could spy on a spy. Still, Natasha took the glasses from the cabinet and came back to sit beside Pepper, holding them out while the other woman filled them.

"Actually, I was more or less hoping you could help me with something," Pepper admitted.

"I'm listening..."

"It involves messing with Tony."

"And now I'm _really_ listening," Natasha admitted with a smirk.

Pepper laughed at that as she sipped at her wine, "So here's how it went down. There was a sort of bet, where Tony bet me an engagement ring if I could get you to have girl talk."

Natasha snorted out a laugh in an instant, "That's one way to get out of a proposal."

"Mmm... of course, I don't think he counted on a few simple facts. One: not a chance in hell would I accept a proposal through a bet. Two: I'm not arrogant enough to think I could convince you to have girl talk. Three: Will you be my fake maid of honor?"

Natasha blinked at that a few times, "Your...what?"

"Fake maid of honor," Pepper tacked on with a grin. "Tell that man we talked all night so I can make him think he has to marry me."

Natasha laughed in an instant, "In that case I would love to be your fake maid of honor."

Pepper smiled happily, "I knew you'd get in on this. But just so you know, my offer to listen, always available. Bruce might be my friend, but I'd like to think you and I could be friends too, so if you wanted to talk then I won't tell him."

She sipped her wine and took another slice of pizza as she thought that over. It _would_ be good to talk to someone who actually knew what the hell was going on with herself and Bruce. On the other hand, she wasn't sure she trusted Pepper to actually keep that promise.

"Bruce is just worried."

Natasha shook her head and talked nonetheless, and she told herself that it was for the sake of the bet that she did so, "You mean Bruce says he can't have more and he's worried that I want more."

Pepper bit down on her lower lip before she nodded, "Yeah."

"I don't."

And she could see the way Pepper grimaced at that comment, "I hate to tell you this, but deep down we all want more, Natasha."

Natasha shrugged at that, "I don't have a deep down."

"I don't believe that," Pepper stated as she sipped at her wine. "You care about Bruce, Tony is always jabbering about how different you are around him and how different Bruce is around you." Natasha narrowed her eyes slightly but Pepper continued, "Like I said... Bruce talks to Tony, Tony talks to me...or talks at me, whatever."

She huffed out an annoyed chuckle, "Look. You don't have to sit here, drink wine and eat pizza with me, you can go back there and tell them that I don't want more."

"Natasha..."

"Look, I have had days to think about all this and I'm not somebody who goes around initiating relationships with everyone I see, my code name isn't who I am, it's a job," Natasha informed her as she refilled her wine glass. "I started this, I pushed Bruce into whatever we are, which really isn't much," and she could see Pepper's worrisome look at that comment so she finished, "I need time to think."

Pepper looked more than worried now, "Is that because I came here to talk to you? Natasha..."

"Pepper this is because I don't know what I'm doing. Bruce doesn't think that whatever this is will work anyways and I can't say that I think he's wrong," she stated as she drank more of the wine. "I have never in my life said that I didn't know what I was doing, but that's the case with Bruce, so I need to step back."

The other woman frowned but she also seemed like she understood all at the same time. "It's alright to not know what you're doing. I don't know what I'm doing three-fourths of the time with Tony."

Natasha laughed in an instant, "That's a little different."

"Tony's a little different," Pepper answered with a smile. "You're different too and so is Bruce. If you feel like you need to take a step back, then take a step back, that's alright. So is that something you want me to tell him? That you need space?"

It seemed wrong to have Pepper tell him that _for_ her, but she really did need a few more days to think through it all, maybe it was the best way.

"I can do that if you want..." Pepper added with a small smile, "or I could go get him, so you can tell him what you just told me."

That was probably the best idea, "I suppose."

Pepper put the wine glass down. "Alright," she agreed, "and Natasha?" She glanced up at Pepper as she stood. "Anytime you want to talk, you can talk to me, and I can keep a secret."

Natasha smiled a little at that, "Thanks."

She watched Pepper leave and she wondered how long it would be before Bruce was at her door. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples as she leaned back on the couch to think. Most days now her dreams were willing with memories, memories that she wasn't sure were real, or fabricated by drugs or Red Room and the KGB.

" _We could run, Natalia, run and never look back. We have been here for so long that we did not know any better, but life is not supposed to be like this, we are not supposed to be like this."_

" _You're wrong. This is what I am, what you are, what we're supposed to be."_

" _It does not have to be. You could dance for real, be the ballerina that you were meant to be."_

" _That's not who I was meant to be."_

" _It is exactly who you were meant to be."_

" _Where could we go? Where could we run that they would never find me?"_

" _We can find somewhere."_

" _And who were you meant to be, Nikolao?"_

" _Your protector."_

"Natasha?" She glanced up and blinked several times as Bruce crouched in front of her. "Pepper said you wanted to talk but you were sleeping and—did I sneak up on you?" He had and that was more than a little disconcerting. He rested one hand on her knee and the other brushed against her cheek as his thumb grazed her lip, "Come on, you should go to bed."

She was tired enough to forget that she wanted her space. "That's just it..." she told him, "sleeping is the problem."

His concerned eyes never wavered, "C'mon, go lay down." Natasha nodded her head slightly as he pulled her to her feet and she followed him in a half-asleep daze. She was under the covers in her bed within two minutes when Bruce's voice broke through the haze, "Want me to stay...or go?"

She honestly wasn't sure what she wanted right now and her voice didn't cooperate. He seemed a little uncertain but he moved into the bed on the other side of her and Natasha didn't breathe a word to make him think he should do otherwise. Instead she allowed him to pull her closer and she rested her head on his chest and let sleep overtake her to the beat of his heart.

" _We did it, Natalia. We did. You are free..."_

" _Am I?"_

" _They have not found us."_

" _You drugged me, you killed our handler, and you have me tied to a chair. How is this freedom?"_

" _You will see soon, I will protect you."_

" _They'll kill you for this, if I don't kill you first, that is."_

" _Natalia, I know what we were made to be but that is not who we have to be now. I can fix this. I can fix you. You do not have to be their weapon, I have the drugs."_

" _Don't you dare drug me again."_

" _You will thank me one day."_

" _You are a traitor. What happened to you?"_

" _There was a noise, Natalia, it freed my mind."_

" _I think it made you lose it."_

She woke up when reality shattered, when Nikolao's face transformed, when his face became that of a monstrous demon from the mixture of drugs.

"Natasha, Natasha wake up!" Her eyes opened to meet worried brown ones and she had Bruce beneath her on the floor. It didn't seem like she had done anything to actually hurt him, no weapons in her hands, no hands around his throat. "Natasha, are you okay?"

She rolled off him quickly, "Yes... are you? Did I—"

"I'm fine," he assured her, "you were freaking out a little...something about drugging you."

"It was a memory I think. I need to figure out the trigger, I need to know I can't become him," she mumbled out. "I need you to put me back in the cage and you need to get Stark."

He looked wary about the idea but Bruce nodded nonetheless, "Him?"

"Constantin."

Bruce's hands held a gentle grip on her arms, anchoring her as he tried to absorb that, "I don't think I get it... but okay. Let's go."

She nodded as she followed after him and they were both silent as they went down to the lab. She didn't feel any less exhausted than she had before and she stepped into the Hulk cage in that same silence even as Tony came in rubbing his eyes.

"This couldn't wait?" he grumbled out.

"No," Bruce answered quickly, "Just...she needs you to do this, Tony." The billionaire's gaze became more alert as he looked at her in the cage with a frown. "We have to find the trigger that brings her back."

"Okay," Tony sighed as he put the little rubber circles on both of her temples before he exited the cage and sat at the computer. "Ready to go, Red?"

"Do it."

Natasha locked eyes with Bruce as the noise pierced her ears. When it went quiet, she glanced between Tony and Bruce before Tony's confused expression and voice hit her, "Your brainwaves aren't changing. At all."

"Well, did you use the right one?" Natasha questioned with frustration.

"Listen to you...did I use the right—of course I used the right one," Tony groaned out with a roll of his eyes. "Jarvis, tell her we used the right one."

"We did, sir."

"Try again." Tony gave her a dirty look before the noise hit her again, and again, nothing happened. "Why isn't it working?"

Tony shrugged, "Got me."

She huffed out a breath of frustration but Bruce opened the cage and moved in front of her, "Natasha. I think you broke their programming."

"That's impossible, I didn't do anything."

"Yeah...you did," Bruce stated quickly, "you didn't use the trigger to go back to yourself last time. You broke through it on your own. You broke their programming..."

Natasha wasn't sure what to do with that information, she wasn't sure how to accept that, or even if she was willing to believe it.

"I'll just...go back to bed now," Tony mumbled as he glanced between them before making a beeline out of the lab.

It was only a few seconds after that when Bruce placed his hands on either side of her face, forced her eyes to meet his again, then pressed his lips against hers. Just like that first time he kissed her, all coherent thought left her, like the fact that she _still_ hadn't told him she wanted time to think. Her fingertips gripped the front of his shirt and instead she tugged him closer, until she remembered that was a bad idea, until his heart started to beat faster. She released him a moment later and pulled away, locking eyes with him once more, but still a different set of words left her lips, "I told you I would tell you if I changed my mind about wanting more."

Bruce looked at least slightly embarrassed about that, "I know..."

"You didn't need to send Pepper to ask me."

"I know—I didn't really send her, she sort of has a mind of her own. Sorry about that..." It was so Bruce-like to apologize for something someone else decided to do that she smiled just a little. Just when she opened her mouth to explain the 'needing a break' thing, he spoke again, "Should we have a date?"

"A-a what?" and did she just stutter?

Bruce grinned in that embarrassed little manner that was dorkishly adorable and he repeated himself, "A date. I mean... not outside the tower, because last time we went out that went pretty terrible."

"You're asking me on a date?" she questioned with an amused arch of her eyebrow.

"Uh, yes. Well, sort of. As datelike as a date could really be in the tower."

Natasha was silent at that. It seemed horrible to tell him no and suddenly the earlier idea that she needed to think about all this was almost forgotten. "Like a movie?" she questioned as she blinked a few times.

"See? That's what I said..." Bruce mumbled before he chuckled. "Tony and Pepper said we needed a date that didn't include movies."

Natasha just shrugged, "I happen to like the old movies."

It seemed like it was the right answer because Bruce smiled, "Me too."

"I also happen to prefer what we have right now so I need you to tell me if that's not enough, Bruce," she finally stated. "Everyone keeps asking what I want, if I want more, but what about you?"

"I...maybe. I don't know," Bruce admitted as he scratched the back of his head.

"And neither do I," Natasha told him. "I'm going to be honest, I was about to tell you that I thought this needed to stop before you kissed me. I was about to do it again before you asked about the date..."

Bruce looked a little wounded at the idea and she sighed. Finally he asked the question that she had been asking herself, "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

She did, but at the same time, she didn't. "I don't know what I want," she finally answered with a shake of her head. "My experience with relationships are all based on missions, on lies, on sex. I'm going to screw this up," she explained, and of course, that was if she hadn't just screwed it up already, "especially since I can't distract you from my mistakes by getting undressed and taking you to bed."

He turned beet red at the very idea of it and she chuckled a little. "I'll mess up too," came his unexpected reply. "Everyone messes up though, right?" he asked. She supposed that was true. "Tony messes up about five or six times a day and him and Pepper still manage," he mentioned with a smile and _that_ made her laugh.

"That's probably true..." Natasha muttered with a bemused shake of her head. "So, I don't know what I want. You don't know what you want."

"That's okay with me," Bruce told her quickly. "But if you wanted to just, you know, stop? Then that's okay too, I won't be mad or upset, I get it."

He was giving her the out that her mind told her to take. He was giving her a chance to just go back to the way things were before. Now that she had the out, she didn't want it. "Let's just...do whatever we're doing now. It's working, right?" she dared to ask.

"Yeah, I mean...I think it is."

The doors to the lab swished open and she took a step away from Bruce as she turned to look at who was entering.

"Hey, Nat. Been looking for you."

She arched an eyebrow up at Steve and she was surprised that though Bruce fidgeted a little, he gave no notion to the conversation they just held. "What's up?"

Steve just gave her a tiny little smile, "Barton said you wanted to spar, unless I'm interrupting..."

Natasha rolled her eyes, gave Bruce a wry little smile, then made her way over towards Steve. "Beating you up is always on my to-do list, Rogers," she assured him. "How's the shoulder?"

"It's good."

"Barton also said I'm supposed to say I'm sorry I tried to kill you," she told him and she quirked an eyebrow up as she studied his expression and awaited his response.

Steve took her comment for exactly the apology it actually was and he chuckled, "Don't worry about it, it's already forgotten. How many knives do you carry anyways?"

"Six."

"Two in the boots, two under your cuffs, one at the waist...where do you keep the sixth?" Bruce questioned.

She waved at Bruce over her shoulder and ignored his chuckle as she followed the supersoldier out of the lab, "That's _my_ secret, Bruce."

Steve gave her a quizzical look, "Seriously...where's the sixth?"

"Yeah, I'm not telling you either, Cap."

* * *

 **Silly Hawkeye.  
**

 **:)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note** : Sorry for the extreme delay. Without further ado and added hoohah, here's your next chapter.

 **Chapter 25** :

Things were relatively mild in the tower given that the entire team was actually in the same place at the same time for once. Bruce expected that the first thing Tony would do was throw a party, yet now it was four days later and instead the billionaire was currently muttering under his breath about rings while browsing jewelry websites on his computer. "How the hell does somebody just pick _one_ ring out of all these choices?" he heard the man grumble out.

Bruce chuckled as he swiveled his chair in Tony's direction before he dared to comment, "I'm not an expert, but most people actually _go_ to the store to pick the ring, they don't just look on the internet and hope for the best."

"I pride myself on not being most people, Brucie."

Bruce smirked at that before he turned back to his own computer. "You could at least pop the _actual_ question in a more dignified manner than a bet when you give her the ring," he tacked on for good measure.

"One knee isn't enough? I could do both knees."

"That's called begging," came Natasha's voice and Bruce covered his mouth to smother a ridiculously loud laugh. "And getting on your hands and knees suits you, you should definitely do one of those graceful little bows at her feet when you do it," she added.

"Nobody asked your opinion, Red," Tony grumbled. "Did you two really drink wine and have girl talk?" and Bruce refused to turn around because he knew he would give everything away, like the fact that Natasha _knew_ about the bet, and the fact that her and Pepper were messing with his best friend. He hadn't seen much of Natasha since their discussion, giving her the space she needed to think things over, and using it to think about things himself. It was also probably terrible to help them, or rather, not to hinder them with their prank. Bruce was almost certain Tony _wanted_ to ask Pepper to marry him, the man was just too pathetically confused on how to go about it, thus that had been the idiotic way that he managed to feel the situation out.

"There was also pizza," Natasha stated. "Unfortunately we stopped just short of braiding each others' hair. Now then, do I have this right? You and Pepper are getting married?"

"Er..." and Bruce could already tell that his best friend had a deer in the headlights look without actually turning around. "Sort of? Yes? I need a ring..."

He glanced to the side and saw Natasha's amused expression, "Well, as the apparent Maid of Honor, I suppose I could help you with that."

"The—the what?!" Tony practically screeched out and Bruce turned and watched as the man turned so fast in his chair that he almost fell out of it in near hysterical fashion.

"Well, I thought she was joking, but it seems I was wrong," Natasha stated with a rather serious expression. "I could help you pick the ring."

Bruce glanced between both of them but Tony was rolling his eyes, "I think I can pick a damn ring, Romanoff."

Her eyebrow quirked up slightly as she perched herself on the edge of the desk and Bruce was barely hiding his continued amusement, especially with her next statement, "Jeez, that thing is gaudy and hideous, you do know she would never wear something like that, right?"

Tony cleared his throat and exited the browser, "Yes... of course I do."

"Mmhmm," she murmured and Bruce blinked when he noticed the bottle of scotch she hid behind her back. Soon enough, she brought it into view and set it on Tony's desk before she grabbed two test tubes in one hand, then twisted open the scotch and poured some into each one. One she handed to Tony, the other she kept in her hand, "You and I are going to have to work together on these plans, Stark. Pepper's a busy woman with an entire company to run."

Tony guffawed and Bruce nearly blew it in that moment as he covered his mouth and turned away, almost choking on his laugh at the billionaire's response, "That—that's an illegal usage of test tubes. You don't even know if that was sterile. That's definitely not even remotely sanitary..." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that it didn't stop Tony from downing the entire test tube of scotch.

"So how much are you willing to spend on this wedding?" Natasha questioned next as she refilled Tony's test tube and Bruce tried to nonchalantly listen in, "because I'm pretty sure you need to go big or go home."

"I always go big and I _never_ go home," Tony reminded her as he drank the entire test tube again within seconds. "Let's not talk about this right now," he mumbled next, "Jarvis, show Red here what we've got for the next mission."

"Certainly, sir," Jarvis agreed. "The most prominently named city in the files you retrieved from the last mission was Mangalia. It's..."

"A port city just off the Black Sea in Romania, I'm familiar with it," Natasha stated as she emptied her test tube of scotch and placed it back in its holder, much to Tony's dismay. Bruce smirked a little as the billionaire grunted, took the dirty test tube, and tossed it into the trash can.

"This is the most logical choice to go next, according the some of the files in the experiments. The files show that this was the next testing city for the experiments and holds the most promise for more answers," Jarvis explained. "Unfortunately, no precise facility location was named in any of the files, leaving us uncertain as to where to begin our search."

Natasha glanced from Tony to the enlarged computer screen that appeared before her, showing a map of the city. "Alright, let's do this a little more old-fashioned," she stated as she moved from her perch on Tony's desk and stepped in front of the map. "Remove any residential buildings first and foremost."

"Certainly," Jarvis agreed as he adhered to the request. Bruce turned and watched as all buildings on the large map showed up as little blue lit up dots and easily, more than half of them went dark within a minute.

"Now remove any buildings that aren't outputting a serious abundance of electricity. We know there's a lab inside, they've got to be racking up a serious power bill."

"With pleasure," Jarvis answered.

Bruce watched again as more of the dots disappeared, leaving a good two dozen dots still lit up.

"That still leaves twenty-six possible choices," Tony mumbled out with a shake of his head.

Something on Natasha's face said that statement wasn't entirely true and Bruce watched her with interest as she spoke again, "I don't think it does. Jarvis, what's this building here?" Bruce watched as she tapped the blue dot closest to the water and she ignored the fact that Tony gave her questioning looks for her choice of one building out of twenty-six, instead waiting for Jarvis to answer.

"According to records, it's a hospital."

"Two hospitals?" she questioned. "It's not exactly a large city."

"Indeed you are correct, there is a second hospital at the northern sector."

"What was it before it was a hospital?" came Natasha's next question.

Jarvis was silent for a moment as he searched before replying, "No records, but the hospital went on record nine years ago."

Bruce mulled that over with interest before he commented, "In other words it didn't exist."

"No, it did," came Natasha's reply, "except it was a research facility."

Tony's brow ruffled in an instant, "And you know this how?"

"Because I'm the one who killed everyone inside it ten years ago and stole the research," she said it without any emotion. The simple answer left Tony with an 'o' shape to his mouth and left Bruce a little shaken. "Thirteen scientists and four armed guards. I'm sure Jarvis can find an article or newspaper retelling the tale." Sure enough, the AI brought up a front-page of a Romanian news story stating exactly what she just had. "Guess I cleared out the place for HYDRA to set up shop."

"So you know the layout?"

"I'm sure the layout inside has changed in a decade, but I can do you one better because I know a way to get in undetected," she answered with a neutral expression. "There's tunnel that can be accessed from the port underwater, I used it the first time."

"And you're assuming HYDRA didn't take note of that in your mission report?" Tony questioned with a roll of his eyes.

"They might have, but that mission wasn't assigned to me by Fury, it was assigned by Pierce," she answered. "Pierce didn't want the mission on record, therefore, no mission—"

"No mission report," Bruce finished the statement for her.

"Exactly. He just wanted the research," she tacked on with a wry little smile, "guess now I know why he didn't want it on record."

Tony looked a little impressed, "So we have a way in?"

"We have a way in."

Bruce raised his hand, "And how can we be sure it's not just a hospital?"

"If it is, it won't matter," Tony stated as he waved him off, "There'll be nothing to see, nothing to steal, no threats to worry about."

"Barton and I can go in, scope it out," Natasha suggested next, "I did it alone ten years ago so it shouldn't be too much of a problem to do it again. You guys can wait on a boat, see what we come up with, if there's anything to actually find."

"All well and good, but you and Barton won't know what you're reading if you _do_ find something, and this time I'd really prefer we not blow up the intel," Tony mentioned with a smirk.

Bruce sighed a little at that as Natasha rolled her eyes, "Yes, because that was my fault."

"Sort of was, but hey, let's not play the blame game," Tony retorted.

"Well you're not exactly stealthy in your big metal suit and I'm not playing the 'make sure Stark doesn't get a bullet in his ass' game," Natasha replied with a pointed glare. "It would take way too long for you to call for your suit if things get dicey," she added.

"Fine, fine, we'll take this discussion upstairs. Team meeting, Jarvis?"

"I'll alert the others, sir."

"Brucieboy, be a dear and go on ahead," Tony ordered and Bruce frowned as he was dismissed from the lab. _That_ had never happened before.

"Er...okay?" Bruce mumbled out as he glanced between Natasha and Tony. "Is this about wedding plans?" he couldn't resist the parting jab.

"Bruce, I will hire Romanoff to kill you."

Bruce saw the amused yet equally annoyed expression that crossed Natasha's face as Tony made the joke but he just shrugged it off and headed for the exit of the lab.

* * *

Natasha watched as Bruce exited and only turned to Tony once the scientist was long gone. He was studying her inquisitively and she had a feeling either Bruce or Pepper had divulged that she had nearly ended this thing between herself and Bruce several days ago. She was proven right only seconds after the thought crossed her mind, "Upcoming nuptials and mission aside...are you and him okay?"

"Define okay."

"Bruce said you were thinking about, you know, breaking things off?" came Tony's response, "and the last few days he's mostly been in here and you've been either training with our star-spangled leader or playing footsies with Barton."

She sighed slightly at that as she folded her arms across her chest. She supposed she couldn't entirely blame Bruce for it, those were the types of conversations people typically held with their best friends, and Tony was doing a rather impressive job of not blabbing the semi-relationship to every living soul in the tower. "Here's the thing, Tony, I'm a private person, so what I do and who I do it with, I prefer to keep between myself and that person."

"I know that."

"And yet you and Pepper keep pushing Bruce, pushing him into pushing me," she added and she watched his brow furrow slightly. "Regardless of the fact that I know you're both doing it with the best of intentions, I was a little annoyed when Pepper showed up at my door to talk about what I wanted when it came to Bruce."

"I can sort of see how that might be annoying..."

"And then he asked me if I wanted to have a date, because _you_ and Pepper thought we should have an actual date," she added for good measure. "You're backing him into a corner when he doesn't have a clue what he wants, and backing him into a corner means you back me into one too," she explained, "I don't do well backed into corners."

"Clearly..." Tony deadpanned.

Natasha frowned slightly as she shook her head. "I get it, I really do. You're his best friend and you're looking out for him." She watched him nod but the weary expression on his face didn't change, "The more you try to push us to be more than we're ready to be, the further you're going to drive us apart, do you get it now?"

"I suppose," Tony agreed halfheartedly. "Look, like you said, he's my best friend. Much as I want to trust that you know what you're doing here—"

"I have no idea what I'm doing, which is exactly what I told Pepper, which is _why_ I wanted to stop all this the other day," she stated in annoyance. Natasha rubbed at her eyes and leaned back in the chair, "I don't do this."

"Do what, exactly?"

"Romance, relationships, _dating_ ," she explained with a roll of her eyes.

Tony raised both eyebrows up and she shook her head as she awaited whatever ill-mannered comment he was about to make, "Didn't you have missions where you had romance, or, you know... _dated_ people?"

At least he made it less colorful than he could have and she supposed she had said just as much to Pepper, and even Bruce, the other day. "Dating? Not so much. As for the romance, the day you _enjoy_ what's happening, that's the day you die, in more ways than one."

Surprisingly, he let that last part fly under the radar and let it be. "You've never bothered to be with anyone as just yourself, have you?" came the sudden question. It certainly wasn't one she expected and she knew she didn't school the pissed off expression that crossed her face fast enough. "Er...my bad. I just meant, in any form, not just under the covers so to speak, little play on words there in case you didn't catch that."

"I'm not having this conversation with you, Stark."

"And now I'm Stark again," he huffed out in clear annoyance. "You need to stop putting all of us at a distance. We're a team, we're friends, and we share a very common interest in Bruce."

"You constantly put people at a distance so I don't see how you're one to talk," she retorted as she finally forced neutrality back into her features.

Tony was quiet for a moment at that before he spoke up again, "I haven't done it with Bruce, or with you."

Not entirely true, he just didn't do it with her often, mostly because they didn't spend much time in the others' presence unless Bruce was nearby. "Are you afraid I'm going to switch sides of the fence again here, _Tony_? As I recall, it is in my nature."

He rubbed wearily at his face at her comment and she quirked a single eyebrow up as she waited for him to think of a reply. "Natasha...I didn't mean that," he attempted to tell her once more. She hadn't believed him that night of the party when he said he hadn't meant it and she certainly didn't believe him now. She hadn't even realized she was still pissed about it until this very moment.

She kept her gaze stone-cold and empty as she watched him and for a moment Tony looked like he felt absolutely terrible all over again. Natasha forced herself to remember that it was _one_ time, that he had been drunk, and that he _had_ saved her life back on that island when she had very nearly drowned. She let that last part guide her for her next comment, "Bruce and I are alright, I think so anyways. I don't know what I'm doing, he doesn't know what he's doing, and we'll manage just fine if you stop trying to force us into something we aren't sure that we want."

Tony cleared his throat, sighed, then nodded, "Alright."

"It's been two weeks, Tony, that's all. I need slow, I need it that way because I've always skipped to the end and just _once_ I'd like to see the beginning."

It was more than she had admitted to herself in two weeks and she blinked at the sudden clarity. Even Tony's expression softened completely at her comment and she shifted slightly with discomfort at the turn their conversation took before she stood up and made her way for the door. "Natasha," he called out.

She turned back to him.

"I'm sorry."

Natasha merely gave him a courteous nod in reaction to the apology before she headed up for the meeting with Tony not too far behind her. When she stepped into the room for the meeting there were two seats available, one between Thor and Steve, one between Bruce and Clint. She quickly snatched the one between Bruce and Clint, watching as Tony stepped in and gave a sour look at the seat that she had left him. She could see the smirk playing on Bruce's lips as the billionaire took the seat a bit reluctantly.

"So...I take it we have a target?" Steve piped up first.

"Mangalia," Tony answered as Jarvis brought up the 3D map across the table for all of them to see. "Thanks to our pint-sized resident assassin, we've got a good suspect for what might be the HYDRA base in the city, plus a rather decent spyway."

"Spyway?" Thor questioned. "What is this spyway?"

"Red?" Tony offered to floor to her.

Natasha inclined her head to the side slightly. "What he means, Thor, is that there's a way in that HYDRA likely doesn't know about. It's the perfect entry for spies to go in to gather intel unseen." She stood up and placed her hands on the virtual map, spreading out the docks of the port. "There's an underground waterway that leads into the basement of the building, and considering that they've remodeled the former research facility into a hospital, the basement is the most likely place for where they'll be hiding any information. Barton and I can go in, check things out, and let you guys know what we might be dealing with."

"Just yourself and Barton?" Thor asked next.

Tony snickered, "That's what I said. Romanoff has a tendency to blow up the information that I want, but she has deemed me unninja-ey enough for this mission."

"That's not even a word," Natasha managed not to groan as she made the comment and she could see Clint chuckling into his coffee cup. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, "If you really want us to take someone who understands your scientific mumbo jumbo, then we'll take Bruce."

The scientist's reaction was immediate and she very nearly laughed at it. "No, no you will _not_ take Bruce," Bruce told her with wide eyes.

"No offense, Natasha, but The Hulk isn't exactly stealthy either," Steve reminded her.

"Ninja Hulk," Tony spouted out with a grin and it only caused Clint to further choke on his coffee as he snorted.

"We don't need a _ninja_ Hulk because we're not taking the Big Guy, we're taking Bruce," she commented dryly, "and unlike Tony, if things get dicey, he's rather indestructible."

"While _causing_ destruction!" Bruce reminded her, "wouldn't that ruin the entire point of this?"

"Only if something goes wrong," Natasha stated with a smile.

She watched as Bruce looked to Tony for help but his friend gave nothing of the sort, neither did the rest of the team as they all seemed to shrug their agreement. "I'm not getting a choice here, am I?" Bruce grumbled out in a sigh.

Natasha planted herself back in her seat but it was Clint who spoke up before she could, "Of course you have a choice, Banner. If you don't wanna go, you don't go, simple as that."

It was one of those voices that made the person feel like the worst person in the world if they didn't agree and Natasha barely hid her smile as Bruce rubbed at his eyes, sighed, then nodded. "Alright, I'll do it..."

"Alrighty, that's settled," Tony mentioned. Let's make our game plan. Team A includes Ninja Red, Ninja Katniss and Ninja Bruce."

One corner of Natasha's lips curled upward as Bruce face-palmed and she saw Clint grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

It was tough to decide whether someone would say it was late at night or early in the morning as Natasha readied herself on the speedboat by the docks with Clint and Bruce. Either way, it was pitch black and perfect for the job they needed to do. It was probably twisted to admit, but she actually _enjoyed_ a little B &E from time to time, especially at this time of day. Breaking and entering, not getting caught, it was one of the first things she had mastered in the Red Room besides murder. She might have become their best asset but she certainly hadn't started that way. She was always the tiniest, always the quietest, always the underdog. That also meant she was always underestimated in the beginning. That was a lesson all the other girls learned quickly. _Never underestimate your opponent._

"I'm going to hate this..."

Natasha snickered as she glanced over at Bruce. The man looked hilariously uncomfortable in a wetsuit and she waited until Clint hopped into the water before she helped the scientist adjust wetsuit to sit a bit more properly. "Relax, Bruce, we do this all the time," she assured him. She could see that he easily wanted to disagree with the ease she was giving to this infiltration and she clamped a hand on his shoulder, "There's nobody I trust to watch my back more than Clint, but you and the Big Guy are turning into a real close second, alright?"

It seemed to do the trick because he nodded his head with less hesitation now. "I suppose, just trying not to remember how your last two missions went," he admitted with a frown, "and last time you had back-up."

"Last time was different and we both know it," she reassured him. "Right when a mission starts is typically a bad time to air out your uncertainties, by the way," she reminded him with a chuckle. It was effective in making him smile just the tiniest bit. "I trust you and now I need you to trust me, at least to do the one thing I'm actually _really_ good at."

Bruce looked hesitant before he smiled a little more, "Alright. So... how does this thing work again?"

She chuckled as he held out the rebreather before she helped him put it on his mouth and strap it on correctly. Natasha attached her own rebreather, then dropped into the water from the speedboat with Bruce. She swam her way to the waterway where Clint already waited and she was the first to dive under and lead the way. Once they were a good twenty feet below, she nodded her head the to oval entryway with large metal bars that was supposed to block their way. It seemed that in the last ten years, nobody had ever bothered to fix the one single bar she had cut through and removed, or perhaps nobody had ever noticed.

She could see Clint's amused face at the fact that her ten year old infiltration of this place was _still_ ready for them and she swam through with both men just behind her. Going down this exact path she used so long ago left her with the reminder of the seventeen men and women whose lives she ended the last time. Natasha pushed the unbidden thoughts from her mind as she swam onward for several minutes before she came to a stop. She motioned to Clint and within a few seconds he was in front of her as they both began removing screws on the grate that would lead them up into the basement. It didn't take long before Clint lifted it just enough for Natasha to poke her head up slightly to see. Nothing. No one. She turned and found the same nothing and no one in the other direction. Just shelves and boxes. She nodded her head to Clint as he popped the grate completely off and onto the floor before she pulled herself up. Clint came up next and a moment later, Bruce followed.

"Ten points for the creep factor of this basement..." Clint whispered after pulling off his rebreather.

Natasha smirked. "It's sort of the basement of the basement," she admitted in an equally quiet tone. She placed the rebreather in Clint's bag before removing her gun and rummaging through some of the boxes. She found lab coats, test tubes, syringes, any number of things that equally pertained to being a simple storage room of a hospital. _In the basement of the basement... a long way to go for supplies._ Then she froze, hearing the _tap tap tap_ of footsteps. Given the weight bearing on each step and the way the person carried themselves, it was either a rather stocky man or an _extremely_ stocky woman. Fortunately, she was pretty sure wet and in a wetsuit, she could distract just about anybody for a good minute or two no matter their gender. She motioned both of them behind the door before she placed the grate quietly back in place, yanked a lab coat from the box, then pulled it on. It wasn't exactly the most elegant of disguises, especially given the slick wetsuit beneath, but she tugged the zipper down for an abundance of cleavage and watched as Clint grinned and Bruce turned beet red. She shoved the gun into Clint's hands and then she just buttoned the lab coat in the perfect place when the door opened to cover both men. She froze, a look of stunned innocence as she sat with her hands just under her breasts.

"What are you—uh...um..." the man spoke in Hungarian, not a language she expected but she could work with it. Then he froze, stunned and baffled at the sight of her, and she could practically hear Clint laughing to himself behind the door.

"Oh, wow...you have the perfect timing," she drawled out in Hungarian as well. "You see, I'm all wet and I could use a little help." Again, she could hear Clint's laughter even though he wasn't _actually_ laughing. She rested her hand on the guard's chest and gave him the most sultry little look beneath her eyelashes, "You must work out."

His confusion changed to interest and he grinned as he took her free hand into his own. "I do, I could show you."

"I'd like that," she agreed with a little smile as he pulled her closer. She waited until he pressed his lips to her neck and pushed her back a few steps before she gave him a playful tap on the chest. "Maybe you should close the door."

"Sure," he agreed.

The guard turned to close the door and as it swung closed she could see his surprise when Clint grinned at him. "Hi, how ya' doing?" her partner questioned just before he slammed the gun that Natasha had passed off to him over the man's head. She smirked a little as Bruce shook his head before Clint handed the gun back to her, "Really, Nat? I'm all wet? That was the best you could come up with?"

"Sure, mock me. Next time you can seduce the guard," she suggested and she could see the amusement plain on Bruce's face, though it was mixed with some semblance of discomfort, and she imagined that was from her seducing a man while he was just two feet away.

 _Leave it to Clint to kick the hornet's nest..._ "You look a little uncomfortable, Doc. Nat's tactics take some getting used to."

Bruce's smile was halfhearted at best, but he didn't comment either way and she was grateful for that. She refused to feel bad for doing her job, for doing what she was trained to do, even if it made Bruce a little uncomfortable. She wouldn't change for somebody, not who she was, and certainly not the way she did her job. "If you two are done hand-holding, let's get a move on. I'd prefer not to linger."

"Yeah, yeah," Clint mumbled as he removed the guard's radio and handcuffed him to one of the shelves. He rolled his eyes at Bruce and Natasha watched the scientist give a real smile when her partner mumbled out, "This is why I can't set her up on dates. She's so bossy, guys hate that..."

Even she had a hard time hiding her smile at that. "Shut up, Clint. You talk too much on missions," she ordered as she took point exiting the room. She was pretty sure she just heard him say, ' _Told you so..._ ' to Bruce, and if she was right, the dorky scientist was probably grinning. At least he also knew how to defuse a rather uncomfortable situation, even if he didn't know he was doing it. Fortunately, they didn't find anyone else down in the 'basement' of the basement. "Alright, scout the actual basement for us," she informed her partner.

"On it," Clint replied without a second thought.

She watched as he kicked off one wall, shifted his weight to the other wall, leaped off of that one and got his hands on the rafters. "Show off," she muttered with a smirk.

"Only for you," came his instant answer as he pushed up the grate to the vents and slid up inside with ease.

It only forced another eye roll from her and she finally caught Bruce's eye as she kept herself steady against the wall that led to the stairs. It was the only direction for anyone to come from and she shifted her eyes from Bruce to the stairwell. He seemed to understand this was certainly not the place for a conversation but she was surprised when he moved to stand next to her and his elbow brushed her arm.

"I'm all wet?" came the teasing whisper. That was certainly not what she expected but it did force the corners of her lips to curl upwards.

"Don't get too excited, Doc," she quipped. She heard him choke a little on the air he was breathing and she heard Clint snort out a laugh over her ear piece, which seemed to remind Bruce that they could be heard by the archer. Fortunately, Clint wouldn't be surprised to hear her tease a man like she was about to, "I shower on the same floor as you, you should be used to me being all wet."

It worked like a charm. Bruce's murmur of, ' _Oh boy...'_ had Clint snorting before his whispered voice commented with, "Not while I'm working, Nat..." She chuckled quietly at the comment and they continued to wait in silence when Clint spoke again, "One guard, just to the left of the stairs." She held her hand up to show Bruce to wait and watched him nod in understanding. Slowly she moved in silence up the stairs, waiting just at the edge where she wouldn't be seen. Clint's voice spoke again, "He's the only one in this hallway and the next...take him out. He's looking away, do it now _.._ "

Natasha moved in an instant, her footsteps completely silent as she stepped into the hall behind him. Even so, it was as though he _knew_ she was there. Just as she went to wrap her arm around his neck, he turned and gripped her arm with his hand. His free hand swung around and hit her just under the chin. She only barely avoided the full-brunt of the blow by tilting her head back, but it was still enough to push her back a step towards the edge of the staircase. The balls of her feet teetered on the edge and she did the only thing she could, she grabbed his shirt with her free arm, spun him behind her and used him like a surfboard as she drove him down the stairwell first.

He was dead before they ever hit the bottom of the stairs, his head twisted at an unruly angle, and she removed herself from atop him as she looked at Bruce. Before either of them could say a word, Clint's voice spoke up from her comm, "Well...not your most graceful takedown, but callabunga, dude." She could see Bruce grinning at the comment and she barely managed not to roll her eyes. Natasha wiped the tiny speckle of blood that had trickled from the corner of her lip and moved back up the stairs. "You're still clear, nobody heard your body-boarding down the stairwell, small favors," came Clint's next words.

This time she did roll her eyes but she waved Bruce to follow her nonetheless. Bruce followed like a puppy. Another plus to bringing him along rather than Tony. Tony didn't follow orders particularly well and she sincerely doubted he would do well following them from her. "You find the anything besides guard dogs?"

"Nothing weird, not yet..." Clint answered. "Well, I found something you might want to see," came his answer, "I'll lead you to it."

She glanced up and caught her partner's eye through the grates of the vent above and she shook her head as he disappeared forward. Natasha cut her eyes to Bruce and gave him a slight nod. "Follow the rat," she whispered as she pointed up.

"Very funny," Clint grumbled in her ear and she saw the light of amusement glimmer in Bruce's eyes. "Next hallway is clear, turn right." She did, with Bruce right behind her, and she moved into the next hallway with Clint's all-clear. "Two people in the next hall, one guard, one's wearing a lab coat, neither one facing your way." Natasha gave the signal for Bruce to wait again and he did, albeit reluctantly, then she slipped quietly towards them down the hall. She came up behind them without them ever noticing and before either of them could bat an eye, she slammed their heads together. It was effective. Both men dropped to the floor unconscious when Clint's voice hit her, "Incoming. Three labcoats, hall to the left."

"Great..." she grumbled out.

"They look like they don't get out much." Normally that would make her laugh, but with Bruce watching, she instead felt a little like she was about to crucify whatever had sparked between them these last few weeks. "Get over there before they round that corner and see bodies," Clint warned.

She waved Bruce up behind her and pulled a small gadget from her pocket, putting it into his hand. "When I tell you to, I need you to throw that at their feet, got it?"

"Um...yeah, sure...sure," he agreed as he followed her.

"And don't drop it," she added. She picked up the folder that the unconscious man in the labcoat was carrying and then hustled in a faux-clumsy hustle around the corner. Just as planned, she careened right into the three men which sent the folder and its' contents sailing all over the floor. "Oh...oh no," she mumbled out quickly in hurried Hungarian. "Not again, I'm always dropping things...if I lose these papers, I'm done..."

"Let me help," the offer came from the shorter and more rotund of the three, but all of them quickly went to work gathering the scattered papers.

Ironically, none of the three had even paused to take a good look at _who_ they were helping. It seemed they were actually just that nice. By the time they all turned to hand the papers to her, she had shifted herself behind them and it worked like a charm. Suddenly their mouths were left open a little, their eyes were all a little wider, and it seemed not one of the three expected _her_. "Something the matter, boys?" she questioned. She glanced down at her chest, where short and _too skinny_ was currently staring, "Too much?"

"Uh...uh...n—no," he said quickly. "They look great. I—I mean...you—you look great."

Natasha gave a real laugh the moment he said it. She actually felt bad but this needed to be done. "Now," she ordered Bruce. Just as she said, Bruce poked his head around the corner and tossed the device she gave him at their feet while she took a few steps back. The electricity coursed through all three and they dropped like flies.

"Shit...did I kill them?" Bruce questioned quickly.

She snorted, "No. But I think the big one pissed his pants."

Bruce shook his head with a bit of disbelief.

"What you wanna see is in the room at the end of this hall, door on the left," came Clint's voice. "I'll keep an eye out in the halls."

Natasha had the distinct feeling that she wasn't going to like what she was about to see, but she went towards the door and opened it nonetheless. The sight before her froze her in place and Bruce came up beside her. "Crap..." came Bruce's instant comment.

That was putting it mildly.

In the center of the room was a chair. Not the chair that zapped her memories, that electrocuted her on and off for nearly fifteen hours back in Russia, but an equally torturous device. Stainless steel, though not so stainless, given the dried and cracked brownish-red that marred the shiny chair. A tray of drills and scalpels lay next to it, that same brownish-red stained all of the instruments, it also stained the metal restraints for the hands and ankles.

She was right. She definitely didn't like what she saw. Either the discomfort with the room shone on her face, or Bruce was getting ridiculously good at reading behind her blank expressions because his fingertips grazed her wrist. Natasha was willing to bet it was the latter. It didn't matter either way as she shifted away from his grasp before it could become a thing, before Clint would notice, and she moved further into the room. She kept her eyes anywhere but on the chair, instead glancing over at plexiglas window that led into what she assumed was a viewing room, also a safe room, in case whoever was strapped in that chair got loose. She had been that person a few times, the one who broke free from chairs like that. Other times she was the enforcer for people who were strapped in the chair.

Natasha had been on both sides of the glass.

She hated both.

Bruce's worried brown eyes were like a beacon shining on her, but she paid him no mind as she stepped into the viewing room and found what she was looking for. "Computer is in here, might have what we're looking for," she told him as she booted it up.

"Right..." came Bruce's reply, "Okay...I'll um...I'll see what I can find."

She nodded her head but said nothing else as Bruce replaced her at the computer. Instead she moved back into what she could give no other name except for, 'The Torture Room'. Her eyes shifted to the chair once more, which seemed to catch Bruce's eye, but he made no comment one way or the other. She released a sharp breath before she moved towards the door to keep a lookout, even though she knew Clint would take care of that, it was the best way to keep her mind off the torture room. That chair was a cruel reminder of who she was and what she was capable of, and every so often she could feel Bruce's eyes shift towards her, worried and uncertain.

He always talked about the monster he thought he was.

But he wasn't the monster, or even if he was, he certainly wasn't the only one.

Natasha's eyes remained ever-watchful into the hallway until Bruce came up behind her and spoke, "I uh...we're good. I got what we need, or...well, I sort of got everything they had."

She managed not to laugh at that. "Okay, you get that, Clint?" she questioned.

"Got it."

Those fingertips once again brushed against her arm and she glanced over and caught Bruce's eye once more as he held up the thumb drive to her. "That thing waterproof?" she questioned with a small quirk of her lips.

"Yes," he answered with a chuckle and she accepted it from his fingers, tucking it safely inside her wetsuit before zippering it up. Bruce's cheeks took on a ridiculous shade of red as he cleared his throat and she glanced over as Clint hopped down through a vent beside them. "Guess we're swimming again..."

"You guessed right," Clint answered with a smirk as he led the way back towards the basement's 'basement'. "I checked around...upstairs really is a hospital. Nothing but scientists and armed guards down here. Whoever they used to put in that room? They aren't here anymore."

"Then let's go..." she replied without a second thought. The few hallways they came through were still littered with the same unconscious bodies that she and Bruce had left behind and they moved quickly past them and down the stairs. Clint picked up their bag and handed the rebreathers back to each of them, actively ignoring the guard who was yanking at his handcuffed hand and yelling at them in Hungarian. He hopped back into the water without a word, Bruce followed behind him, and then she sank down immediately after.

Other than bodyboarding a man down the stairs, at least this mission hadn't gotten completely and utterly screwed up in some manner.

Small favors, Natasha supposed.

It was only when they were all on their way home that she sat alone with Clint. Her best friend gave her a rather shit-eating grin before he made the comment, "You need me to talk to Banner about personal space?"

She arched an eyebrow up at the question almost immediately.

"That was twice I counted where he touched your arm, the first time you were pretty clear you weren't interested, the second time you just sort of ignored it," Clint remarked.

"He's fine," Natasha assured him. "I'm...getting used to him."

That actually seemed to draw a laugh from him, "Coming from you...that's saying something, Nat. You hate people touching you."

Clint wasn't exactly wrong. "True enough," she admitted, not daring to shift her eyes back to where Bruce was sitting with the other Avengers. "But he's a good friend, like you," she tacked on for good measure, "Bruce doesn't bother me."

And there was a real smile from her partner, "Well, good. You need more good friends."

"Gotta replace you for a while, babies keep you busy," Natasha teased with a grin.

"Don't remind me," and Clint actually looked a little horrified for a moment, "let's just hope she doesn't get her namesake's attitude. I can't deal with a firecracker in diapers, too."

And the laugh that left her lips was immediate and genuine.

* * *

 **Again, sorry for the extreme delay in this update. I know there's not much left to this story, but I was forced to head out of town for a family emergency. Hopefully I can get back on track here now that things have calmed down.**

 **Also, thank you to everyone for the reviews and the very sweet concerned messages, and I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to get back to them until yesterday. Thanks also to everyone who stuck around for more :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note** : Here's your next chapter. A lot of fluff and humor for all of you to enjoy in a story that's usually so dark and twisty. :) Welcome to a fun chapter filled with friendships and some unexpected team bonding!

For **Black Victors' Cachat** , for always helping me and my plot bunny go completely bonkers. We appreciate your wisdom and additions to our insanity.

 **Chapter 26** :

Bruce found himself staring into the fierce and piercing green eyes of one Natasha Romanoff from across the coffee table of the lounge. It had been like this for the last two hours, each of them at opposite sides, green eyes staring directly into brown. All he really knew was that the moment one corner of her lips quirked into that slanted and mischievously enchanting smile, he was completely and utterly screwed. The rest of the Avengers were watching intently from the couches while he and Natasha were seated on the floor on either side. Not a peep came from any of them. It was over and Bruce knew it just like each and every other Avenger that was gathered around. Truthfully, he wasn't sure that he ever really stood a chance, not against her. He wasn't sure there was a single person in the world who did.

And then the words left Natasha's lips the moment she made her move, "Checkmate."

That moment also marked the first time somebody had ever beaten Bruce at chess and it left him stunned and speechless.

"Well, two hours of drinking scotch and sitting here was actually sort of worth it just to see Bruce finally lose," Tony stated with a smirk.

Still, Bruce couldn't get any words to form from his lips and Clint was the next one to comment, "Sorry, Banner. I haven't beaten Natasha at anything that involves strategic thinking in the ten years I've known her. Probably should have warned you, she's a tactical genius."

The opposite corner of Natasha's lips curled up into an honest smile now and he couldn't help but return it. "That's the first time I've ever lost at chess," he admitted.

Team nights had become a nightly ritual since they raided the HYDRA base two weeks ago. They had found three more since but even those three had yet to yield them with Loki's missing scepter. The downside to the entire team being in the tower was that he hadn't slept nearly as well as he had been for the two weeks prior. Natasha no longer showed up in his room at night and he didn't have the gall to go to hers. Even her usual intrusions into the lab or into his movies had become less frequent and he wasn't sure if it was something that he did or if she was merely distancing herself because the team, and most importantly Clint, were now here.

Bruce found himself questioning their closeness on occasion, not out loud of course, but to himself. At that exact moment their closeness came right into view once more as Natasha moved and planted herself so close to Clint on the couch that she was quite nearly on top of him. She gave her partner a little smirk when he nudged her shoulder with his own and then she snatched his beer and took a swig before handing it back and speaking, "Fun as this has been, I'm calling it a night."

He also found himself wondering if Clint could see how tired Natasha looked. Given the briefly uncertain look the archer gave her, Bruce fathomed a guess that he did, and the other man's grayish blue eyes briefly met his own. It seemed Clint also noticed that _he_ noticed Natasha's exhaustion. She was only gone from the lounge for about thirty seconds when Bruce decided to go after her. "I'm just gonna go sulk over my loss in the lab," he announced. It sparked a laugh from Tony, Steve and Thor, but Clint was giving him 'the eye'. It seemed the other man was well aware of Bruce's intention to go and talk to Natasha but at least he didn't say anything about it. Regardless of that, he could feel Clint's eyes following him as he left and it was more than a little unnerving, and all he could think was that Natasha had one very intimidating best friend.

He could hear Thor's thundering voice even as he left, "I am confused as to why only certain pieces can move a certain way. I have failed to see how Lady Natasha won the game and Doctor Banner lost..."

"Eh, don't worry about it big, chess is one game that confuses all but the puniest of mortals, Thor," came Tony's reassuring reply.

Bruce didn't have to go far to find her. She was in the gym, wrapping tape around her hands, clearly going to her favorite pastime. Punching her problems out. Natasha shifted her gaze to him within seconds of him entering and she blinked a few times as he moved towards her. "Haven't seen much of you," he offered up. Her expression gave nothing away as she stared back at him. "Bad nights?" he dared to ask next.

She huffed out the tiniest breath as her eyes narrowed just slightly before her lips parted and her reply escaped through them, "The usual."

"Does it have to do with Romania?" and once again she blinked a few times, like she wasn't certain she understood what he meant, "the chair? You had a look when we were there...like you'd been in one like it before."

Natasha's face didn't change from its usual non-expression but she did decide she would answer him, "My bad nights aren't typically about things that have been done to me, Bruce. I've put a lot more people in chairs like that than I've been in them myself."

He nodded his head slightly at that, "Maybe you just need to take your mind off things for a little while."

And that tiny little smirk graced him with its presence as she sidled up closer to him and playfully curled her fingers into his shirt pocket, "Is that an offer?"

 _Good God..._ Natasha's nose was a mere fraction of an inch from his own and it sent his heart racing out of control as the heat rushed to his face. "Uh...I um...I..." The laugh that left her lips was actually worth that embarrassing moment and he smiled in an instant as she took a step back. "You're hilarious," he mumbled out, but his smile was a dead giveaway that he didn't actually mind her joke. "I was actually just going to warn you, Tony's sort of planned a party for you tomorrow."

That seemed to wipe the smile right off her lips and the amusement left her eyes in an instant. "Why would he do that?" she questioned quickly.

"Your...birthday?" he offered up. "You do realize it's your birthday tomorrow, right?"

Natasha looked momentarily stunned and taken aback. "I uh...no, no I didn't..." she answered with hesitation. "It's not _really_ my birthday tomorrow," she admitted.

Bruce wasn't sure what she meant by that, "How can it not really be your birthday?"

"It's just a day. I don't actually know my birthday," came her explanation, "it's the day Red Room took me and that's not really a day I want to celebrate."

He wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. She didn't seem at all thrilled at the prospect of celebrating and he frowned slightly, though given her explanation, he couldn't entirely blame her. "So don't think about it that way. Turn it into something else," he offered, "make it a good day."

"What exactly does he have planned?"

"I honestly have no idea...but it involves the jet."

She actually chuckled just slightly at that. "I suppose I can try but there's a very good chance that I punch him tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it," Bruce told her with a smile. "I'll uh...I'll let you punch your problems out then on the off chance that you might not punch Tony tomorrow."

That mischievous twinkle sparked in her eyes and made him nervous, "You can always work out with me."

"Last time you basically called me a wimp," he reminded her with a chuckle. She reached forward and gave him a playful shove to the chest. "Oh...so that's how it is?" he questioned in amusement, "first you beat me in chess and now you have to beat me on the training mat?"

Natasha's grin was nothing short of mesmerizing and she stepped forward and playfully shoved him again, "I have to beat everyone at everything. It's a character flaw." It was ridiculously amusing and he chuckled immediately. "C'mon, flaunt your stuff," she teased, "take a swing."

"No way," he answered quickly, putting his hands up in surrender.

She snickered before tapping him playfully on the cheek and then raising her fists, "C'mon, Bruce. Let's go."

"Not happening," Bruce assured her with a smirk.

"I'll show you how to take down an attacker then," she offered.

Bruce felt both his eyebrows rise up in response to her comment. "I usually just go green."

"How very 'save the planet' of you, but I mean as you, not as the Big Guy."

He sighed a little, "Is that really necessary?"

"Mmhmm..." she replied with that impish little smile. "So throw a punch, I'll show you how this works."

Bruce hesitated for a moment before he raised his own fists. "I'm gonna regret this..." he mumbled under his breath. It did, however, force another small laugh from her lips. That sort of made all of it worth it. Either way, he swung rather pathetically at her. She caught his arm and twisted it behind his back, then a moment later, he found himself _on_ his back. He blinked several times as her eyes stared back down at him in silent amusement. "Okay...maybe I don't regret it..."

Yet another laugh bubbled from her as she shook her head, "Did you even pay attention to how that happened?"

"Not particularly..." Bruce admitted with a sheepish little smile.

Natasha shook her head and snickered as she pulled him back up to his feet. "Alright, c'mon. I'll have you do it step by step."

"You want me to—to do _that_?" Bruce mumbled out in disbelief. "No, no way, nuh-uh. I'm not doing that."

She gave him the most sardonic look before he watched her eyes shift towards the elevator, "Fine. Clint, get over here."

Bruce turned and watched as Clint did exactly as he was told. He hadn't even noticed the other man was there.

Natasha smirked. "Now hit me."

And it seemed her partner had no qualms doing as she asked because before Bruce could bat an eye, Clint sent his fist sailing towards Natasha. Just as she did with him, Natasha caught Clint's hand, twisted it around behind him, then flipped him over on his back. The archer didn't react much to it, clearly having expected it, but he did leg sweep the redhead off her feet. It seemed to start an all out war between the two.

Natasha landed on her back beside him and Clint swiftly rolled over and got over top of her. Before he could make a move, she got her feet against his midsection and launched him over her head. It was a bit like watching a dance that the two had performed and perfected hundreds of times over the last decade. Both of them were back on their feet and circling each other like vultures and he wasn't sure either would strike first. Finally, Natasha made the first move. She made as though she were rushing forward and just as Clint went to intercept, Bruce watched as she gracefully feinted to the left, but her partner seemed to see that move coming. He turned and blocked her fist with his arm before grasping the foot that came towards him with his free hand. Bruce was actually impressed when he watched Clint take Natasha to the mat for the second time.

"Do either of you ever actually _win_ this or do you just go at it for a while and call it a draw?" he dared to ask.

It seemed to give Clint pause for a moment and Natasha released the tiniest laugh in response to the question.

"It goes back and forth," Clint answered with a chuckle. "Eventually one of us does something that the other wasn't expecting," came the admittance. " _Usually_ Natasha but I have my moments, too. I'm better at a distance."

"It's true," Natasha agreed. "Up close is more my forte but put us on a shooting range and he's more likely to win." Bruce couldn't deny that it clearly made them an effective team, especially when each of them was almost as good as the other at their respective fighting methods. "Alright, now I'm gonna swing at you, Bruce. Not fast, slow, just to show you how this works."

He wasn't entirely sure how to take that but he accepted that it was clearly going to happen. Natasha _said_ she was going to swing slow, but slow for Natasha was apparently still quite fast. He just barely caught Natasha's fist.

Clint was chuckling as he spoke, "Nat, that's not _normal_ people's slow punch. You're lucky he even saw that coming..."

"I'm getting used to the unexpected with her," Bruce admitted and it wasn't a far stretch from the truth, though it did bring out a full-on belly laugh from Clint. Did he ever expect to share a bed with her? No. Did he ever expect to kiss her? No. And he _definitely_ never expected them to evolve into something more. Into whatever it was they currently were, something they were actively avoiding putting a label on, something they were actively avoiding talking about. Even so, the moment they had was long gone now that Clint was here. Natasha had shifted more towards neutrality and out of the playful mode she was in before. Suddenly he knew exactly how frustrating it must get for Natasha to deal with his own best friend, and Tony was much more of a handful than Clint, at least Bruce was pretty certain that was the case.

"You're both hilarious," Natasha murmured with a roll of her eyes. Bruce couldn't resist a smile in response and he noted that Clint was smirking with his arms folded across his chest. "Alright, now you have to pivot and use your weight to shift around behind me. Make sure to have a good grip and bring my arm back with you." It would have been awkward enough without Clint watching and his discomfort only rose with the archer's studious gaze. Bruce shoved the thoughts into the back of his mind and slowly maneuvered the way Natasha told him to. "Okay, that wasn't terrible. Now the key, you need to hook your leg around the front of mine and then pull it back," she offered up next.

Bruce felt his brow ruffle instantly and he could see the amusement in Clint's eyes. Clearly the other man was thinking the exact same thing Bruce himself was. "Doesn't that put you on your front? How did you get me on my back?" and it was a question he _had_ to ask.

Natasha chuckled instantly, "Yeah, I'm not showing you that yet, you'll break my arm." He couldn't really fault that thinking and he gave the slightest shrug. It would seem that maneuvering someone onto their back from this position wasn't exactly an easy thing to do, or maybe breaking the person's arm was the point and Natasha was just masterful enough to be able to do it _without_ breaking limbs.

He awkwardly moved his right foot and hooked it around her own right leg. "Like this?"

"Mhmm...now pull bah—" before she ever got to finish, he lost his footing and both of them toppled to the training mat. For a second Natasha seemed a little stunned beneath him but he figured it wasn't terrible because Clint was damn near hysterical. It only took another half a second before he actually felt Natasha shaking beneath his chest and he realized she was laughing too. "Well...it wasn't the most graceful takedown but I can't deny that it was effective," came her breathy comment. He released his own huff of a chuckle as he got off her back and pulled her back to her feet with him.

She had that amused twinkle sparkling in her eyes even as Clint shook his head and headed back for the elevator. "Hilarious as it is to watch Banner take you down, I'm going to do something more productive with my free time," he called out with a wave over his shoulder.

Bruce watched as Natasha scrunched her nose up at her partner, watched until he turned around in the elevator to face them, and then the weirdest interaction between them happened that he never imagined he would see.

Clint Barton stuck his tongue out at Natasha much like a child would.

"Real mature, Barton," Natasha teased.

Then Natasha returned the childish gesture in kind.

He was so befuddled by the child-like interaction between them that it took him a moment to realize Natasha was staring at him with a single eyebrow quirked up and a crooked little smile. The elevator doors closed, dinged, and brought him out of her reverie. "Did you just...stick your tongue out?" he finally managed to get the question out.

"I'm not serious _all_ the time," the redhead reminded him, "besides, you deal with that man for ten years and you'll want to do a more obscene gesture than sticking your tongue out," she tacked on for good measure.

It was enough to make him chuckle, "I'll take your word for it."

Something in her expression changed just slightly and Natasha tilted her head to the side slightly as though she only just realized something. "I'm sorry, Bruce."

The apology came out of nowhere and he wasn't all that sure what she was actually apologizing for. Bruce frowned a little as he studied her before he dared to ask _why_ she was sorry, "For what?"

"We haven't talked much," came her admittance, "and I know that's mostly my fault."

"It's fine."

She frowned just like he had moments ago before she rested her palm gently on the side of his face, "It's not and I'm pretty terrible at this. I don't know what I'm doing, what we're doing, so I just avoided all of it."

He couldn't deny that it had frustrated him a little to barely speak more than a dozen words to her in as many days, but he hadn't tried particularly hard to do so either, and he realized now that it wasn't completely her fault. It was both of their faults that they hadn't spoken even if he wanted to blame Clint. "I didn't really make much effort either..." he finally admitted out loud, "I know you've said that you don't do this. Relationships, I mean, but I just need to know something..."

Those green eyes looked a tad uncertain but Natasha nodded her head nonetheless, "Alright."

"Why did you change your mind? Why—why me?" he finally dared to ask.

She was giving him a rather unflattering look now as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Bruce, how many times are you going to ask me that?" she finally questioned. "Nothing's changed."

"Maybe not but you've never really answered it," he reminded her.

Natasha seemed to be mulling that over in her mind for a moment as she left him to wonder in silence. After another thirty seconds went by, he almost told her that it didn't matter when she finally spoke up, "I don't know." That certainly wasn't the answer he expected, though, he hadn't expected an answer at all. "You're different, Bruce," came her next reply. Again, it wasn't an answer that he expected and he wasn't sure what to think of it because it didn't exactly explain anything. She seemed to understand that as her voice once again rang out, "The truth is that I really don't know why. It just happened, but I'm glad that it did." Bruce released a tiny little chuckle in response to her answer but then the most surprising words came from her lips, "I've avoided asking you this but I need to know. You used to say that I bothered you...why did that change?" Natasha flabbergasted him with that one question and he couldn't fathom how to even answer it. He stared stupidly at her with his mouth just slightly agape, and for too long it seemed because she seemed to know the answer before he did, "I still bother you, don't I?" He felt absolutely terrible the moment that the words left her mouth and it the way the skin around her eyes crinkled just slightly and the corners of her lips edged just slightly downward told him that she felt hurt by it. Even if it was _barely_ a reaction, he had never wanted to be the person to make that look appear, and then Natasha merely angled her head to the side slightly as the feelings faded instantly from her face, "It's okay..."

Clearly it wasn't really okay because she turned around to head for the elevator and Bruce had to move quickly to get himself around in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders and she looked mildly annoyed as she narrowed her eyes slightly at him. "Natasha...you're right, you are, you're right. You bother me but I swear it's for completely different reasons than you used to," he told her quickly.

Now she just seemed confused and her words proved it, "Is this about that guard in Romania?"

"Wha—no...no," he assured her. "That's—that's just you, that's what you do and I knew that way before all this," he reminded her. "It's just that you...you're like nobody I've ever been around and what bothers, what's always bothered me is that...that I am terrified that the Other Guy will hurt you."

"Bruce—"

"But now it's just...it's different. That's not all that bothers me..."

Natasha looked baffled in an entirely new way. "I know I'm new at this but you're not making any sense."

He actually had to double check that the elevator doors weren't open with prying eyes before he turned back towards her and pressed his lips to hers. He shifted his hands down to her waist when she leaned in closer and rested both her hands on either side of his face. It didn't end nearly as fast as any former kiss they'd shared and her right hand slowly drifted to the back of his neck. A few seconds passed by before he dared to ease the kiss into something deeper. The moment he did was the moment his heart started to beat out of control and he forced himself to back away from her in embarrassment. He took a deep breath and another step back before he spoke again, "Like you said...you—you bother me."

Natasha was blinking rapidly as the words seemed to actually make sense to her and her eyes softened immediately. His heart raced further when her hand reached forward and covered his chest just over top it. The smile she gave him now was more gentle as her other hand rested on his shoulder. "I suppose we did say that this would only work with practice," she offered up with a tiny little chuckle, "just might take a bit more than either of us thought."

He actually relaxed a little at her words as he eased out a laugh. She narrowed her eyes a little with that devilish little look on her face as she gripped his shirt where her hand rested and dragged him back over to the mat. "Uh...w-what are you—"

"You still need to work on the move, preferably without tripping, though that was certainly effective to take me down," she offered up with a smirk.

The most impressive thing was how much she didn't mind how easily his heart raced near her. One step too far and he could go green at the drop of a hat.

And because of those thoughts he almost forgot to catch her fist when it swung at him.

* * *

It was on the jet heading towards wherever Tony Stark had them going for this supposed 'surprise' that Clint took the open seat next to Bruce Banner that Natasha had vacated moments ago. The scientist looked a little surprised to see him and really, it was only because of his redheaded partner that he even felt the need to socialize with the other man with more than the occasional 'Hey, how ya' doing?'. "Banner."

"Um...Barton," came Bruce's uncertain greeting in reply.

"Natasha told me a few weeks ago that you were a really good friend," Clint offered up quickly. "Honestly, I don't know you at all and I wasn't actually sure I even believed her," he admitted, "not until yesterday in the gym anyways." He could see Bruce's confused expression and Clint knew he needed to explain it better. "Natasha doesn't typically train people and that was the first time I heard her really laugh _while_ training someone. That's...sort of impressive," he explained.

"She uh...definitely takes me out of my comfort zone," came Bruce's admittance.

Clint couldn't resist snorting out a laugh in response to the comment, "That's one way of putting it. It's just, I was actually in the elevator for most of your conversation before that." It seemed to have once again made the scientist uncomfortable. "I've never seen her talk to anyone like she talked to you. Plus you managed to convince her to at least try and enjoy today and that's not something I've ever been able to do."

"I didn't do anything..." came Bruce's insisting voice.

The man really didn't seem to understand how different his partner actually was near him and that was actually even more impressive. "You don't see it, do you?" Clint questioned in amusement. "She honestly enjoys being around you to the point where she's...almost a normal person."

And it seemed to have ruffled Bruce's feathers a little. "Natasha's normal," and Clint could see the way Bruce realized the falseness of his own comment as he was saying it.

"And I'm the Queen of England," Clint replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Okay," Bruce admitted with a smile, "she's not normal but that's what makes her interesting."

Clint snickered at that. "Alright, well...I just wanted to say thanks. Natasha has never been an easy person for other people to get along with but you...you were the friend to her that I couldn't be these last few months. She'll never admit it but sometimes she needs someone to help her keep her head on straight," he explained. "You've actually done a hell of a job, and well, mostly I just wanted to say if you're her friend then you're mine too," he offered his hand out to him.

It seemed to ease the awkward man into being a little more comfortable as Bruce returned the smile just a little and shook his hand, "Thanks..."

And it sincerely felt like he was missing something important, he just didn't know what the hell it was, not yet anyways.

* * *

Natasha was a little uncertain what to think after they got off the jet two hours later and switched to one of Tony's limos. It was hard to decipher what an insane billionaire deemed to be an appropriate birthday bash for a world renowned assassin, but when they arrived at their destination, it certainly wasn't what she expected. There was absolute silence from all of them as they walked through the doors and Natasha heard the _ding ding ding_ and ridiculous music coming from some of the stuff inside the building.

Originally she expected something completely insane that would instantly make her want to bash his brains in. She could feel all the eyes of the five men on her as she let her own eyes shift around the place that Tony deemed worthy of her 'birthday'. Truthfully, she had absolutely no idea what this place was. "What...is this?"

Tony had a look on his face as though she had just blasphemed everything in the world. "It's an arcade, Romanoff. Yeesh...you've never been to an arcade?"

All she could think to do was blink several times as she continued to look around, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Oh boy..." Tony muttered.

She could see Clint trying his best not to laugh while Bruce and Steve even had awkward little smiles. Thor on the other hand looked like a kid in a candy store and she supposed she could at least give the place a try. "Don't get me wrong, I'm sort of glad there aren't any strippers, loud music and hundreds of people, but..."

"You're a little out of your element," Steve offered up in explanation.

"That's putting it mildly," she grumbled out.

"I think this place looks joyously fun," Thor boomed with a grin. Natasha felt a little bewildered when the demigod gripped her wrist and pulled her forward with him, "Come, let's figure out these strange contraptions together. Look! There is a game with a hammer called 'Whack-a-Mole'! Let us try that first!" She gave the rest of the team a look that said 'save me' but not one of them came to her rescue. Instead she was forced to figure out the 'whack-a-mole' game with Thor and if she had to be honest, it actually was incredibly amusing to watch the big man try and hit the moles that popped out of the many holes without destroying the machine. There was a brief moment where an honest laugh escaped her lips when Thor was biting down on his lip and attempting to hit four of them that popped up all at the same time. He failed in rather epic proportions but her amusement was genuine. "Here, you must now attempt to hit more moles than I have, Natasha," he suggested as he handed the rubber mallet to her.

At least when he spoke _to_ her he refrained from calling her 'Lady'. She raised an eyebrow up slightly and glanced behind her as Clint smirked in her direction and gave her a thumbs up. Nothing in her training ever prepared her for crap like this. Still, Thor made it ridiculously easy to get into the game.

"There! There it is! Hit it!" Thor called out the moment the first mole made it's appearance. She whacked it with the mallet even against the wishes of that voice in the back of her head telling her this was completely childish and stupid. Natasha would be damned, Whack-a-Mole was friggin' therapeutic. "You are much better at this game than I. Oh! Two more moles!"

It was hard to concentrate on hitting the stupid moles with Thor acting like a cheerleader beside her but it was also hilariously enjoyable. Though she ignored the statement, she did hear the words Clint said to Tony, "Alright Stark, I have to admit, you might have had the best idea in history when it comes to Natasha."

"Contrary to popular belief, I know when _not_ to be a jackass," came Tony's response. "Besides, it's hard to have fun if you've never learned how, so let's go teach our little spy how to have fun."

It took a good fifteen minutes to convince Thor to give up on the endeavor of 'whacking all moles', but soon enough, Natasha found herself at a different part of the arcade with the billionaire who made all of this happen. "Aren't there supposed to be more people at an arcade?" she questioned him.

"I bought the place out for the day," Tony answered with a wave of his hand. "Getting you to relax seemed hard enough without hundreds of people running around here at the same time," he explained. It was oddly endearing and thoughtful of him but she didn't voice the thought. She chuckled when he handed her a bottle of vodka, "Happy birthday, Red."

Natasha took the bottle that he offered and didn't bother to explain how it wasn't actually her birthday. There was no need to go through that conversation with anyone else and instead she twisted it open and took a swig, "Thanks, I think..." Before she could take a second swig, he took the bottle from her hands and replaced it with a little red plastic circle with a handle on top. "What the hell is that?" she dared to ask.

"It's for the most important game in _any_ arcade," Tony insisted as he held up his own, "air hockey."

She narrowed her eyes a little as she looked around, "How the hell do you play hockey in the air?"

And Tony laughed almost immediately at her question. "You don't actually play in the air, jeez. Alright, see this table here? You go stand here," he informed her as he pushed her to the one end before walking to the other. "That little red thing in your hand is what you use to defend the goal and hit the puck," he explained next.

"So...why is it called air hockey?" It was honestly the only question she could think to ask. The machine turned on and she got her answer as Tony placed the little black puck on the table and the air pushed it around just a little. "Forget I asked," she mumbled out in disbelief.

Natasha glanced over when she heard Clint laughing and Steve's voice rang out, "Nice shot, Doctor Banner."

The three were lined up at a couple of miniature basketball nets and apparently enjoying themselves and she shook her head slightly before she turned back to Tony at the other end of the air hockey table. She honestly wished it was as easy for her to relax and enjoy simple things like that as it seemed to be for the rest of them. Instead she was failing to understand something as simple as air hockey, but she hit the puck back and forth with Tony nonetheless.

It was only after the score was 2-4, with Tony in the lead, that he sparked up conversation again. "You're not exactly having fun, are you?" he questioned.

She paused at the question which let Tony's puck go through the goal and she shrugged slightly as she put the puck back on the table and hit it to him. "I don't know, it's not... _not_ fun," she answered, "I guess I just don't really get it."

The billionaire gave her the stink-eye as the puck went back and forth a few times before he actually dared to do what most people wouldn't, "You're not actually going to sit here and lose to me, are you Romanoff?"

The taunt was almost enough to make her miss the puck again but she managed to clip the corner of it just in time and she shot him a dirty look. "Seriously, Stark?"

Tony grinned in an instant, "Live a little, Natasha. Be a kid."

She snapped the puck back at him but she didn't comment as it went back and forth a few more times before she scored. It put the score at 3-5 and they shot back and forth a few more times before she scored again.

"See? Now you're getting it. All I have to do is piss you off and you become an air hockey queen!" Tony called out from the other side of the table.

Natasha was still failing to see how all of this was supposed to be fun even as she tied the game at 5-5. She supposed that was probably the main reason that Tony got the two points needed to win. She almost missed when Tony waved Steve over and she watched in silence as the two traded places. The table reset itself and she watched Steve put the puck down on top. "Guess I'm not very good at the fun thing, huh?"

To Bruce's credit, he just gave her a tiny smile and a shake of his head, "You've only been here for thirty minutes, Nat. It takes a little getting used to."

"Having fun takes getting used to?" she questioned with a chuckle.

Steve actually laughed a little as they shot the puck back and forth, "For some people. I mean, we all have different ideas of fun." Then he lifted the little red circle up and her puck scored a goal as he studied it before dropping it down on the table, "Or maybe this game is just boring..."

That made her laugh as she tossed her own down on the table, "That is one thing I can honestly agree with... Whack-a-Mole was a lot more amusing."

"Find something else?"

"Definitely," she agreed.

They wandered around for a few minutes before something seemed to catch Steve's eye and she quirked an eyebrow up slightly at the sight before them. Thor was currently standing on some loud machine playing music that she wasn't sure was even in English, pounding his feet on the arrows. Clint was doing much the same on the Dance Dance Revolution machine beside him with a lot more ease, but doing an equally terrible job, and the corners of her lips curled up as she heard the _BOOs_ coming from both of their machines.

"See?" Steve whispered to her, "now _that's_ fun to watch."

There was no doubt about that and she watched as the two of them failed spectacularly at the game.

"Guys," Tony groaned out, " _kids_ can play that game, you just hit the arrows that show up on the screen with your feet! Good God, this is pathetic."

Clint stepped off the machine and gestured for the billionaire to take his place, "Alright, show us your skills, _master_."

Natasha watched as Tony gave her partner a rather intense eye roll. Then he turned to her, "Romanoff, think you can move your feet better than these two bozos?"

She supposed that was his idea of a challenge and she arched both of her eyebrows up as she glanced around at the entire team. Bruce was shaking his head in disbelief, Clint was chuckling, Thor got off the machine and Steve looked genuinely amused. There was really no saying no when everyone was watching and she sighed a little before she shrugged, "I guess." Dancing was one thing she was actually good at, though she wasn't sure how hitting arrows with her feet really qualified as its equal. She stepped up on Thor's vacated machine as Tony got onto the other one. Then Tony put on the worst imaginable song.

'Don't Cha' by the Pussycat Dolls.

"Oh for the love of all that's holy, Stark...really?" she grumbled out.

She was actually a little flabbergasted when he spun in a rather graceful circle and came to rest facing her with his index finger pointed at her, "Try not to be jealous of my moves."

It was effective, she'd give him that, because she actually smiled against her will. When it actually started up, it was more frustrating trying to get her feet on the designated arrows than she would have thought. Even more distracting was the fact that Tony freakin' Stark could get a 'Perfect' or a 'Flawless' while perpetually shaking his rear end. It wasn't until she saw him mouthing the words, 'Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?' to Bruce that she actually laughed. It might have been somewhat of an inside joke that only the three of them on the team fully understood, but it was one of the most hilarious things she had ever witnessed.

It was also effective to get her feet moving more in sync and then she was on par with the perfects that Tony was getting.

"There you go, Nat!" Steve called out.

Clint was hooting, "Damn! Stark's shaking it, you better get your groove on, Nat!"

It was hard not to laugh with Tony being as ridiculous as possible on the machine while doing a rather excellent job at getting a good score. It was even harder when Bruce was wearing a grin from ear to ear at his friend's antics.

It was only when Tony leaned towards her, his feet still moving, and he _shimmied_ and stated, "Gimme a little shimmy, Red," that she screwed up her footwork and _really_ laughed.

"You're such a jackass, Stark," she mumbled out once the fit of laughter actually ended. She wasn't sure that anyone besides Clint's kids had ever made her laugh so hard, but a grown man in a suit doing the shimmy on a dance machine was something that even Natasha Romanoff couldn't keep a straight face over. She stepped off and shoved Steve up in her stead, "Let's go, wonderboy."

"This is a terrible idea," Steve grumbled out.

"I did it, live a little, Steve," Natasha told him with a smirk.

"Shake your groove thang, Cap," Tony ordered.

Natasha chuckled as Tony played that exact song on the game just for good measure and she only moved on when Bruce tugged on her arm. "Where are we going? I sort of wanted to see if Steve fell on his ass."

Bruce laughed a little as he shook his head, "Think I found a game right up your alley."

She arched an eyebrow up at that, "Really?"

As it turned out, he certainly wasn't wrong. She took the red plastic gun he handed her and watched him pick up the blue one with interest. There was something at least mildly funny about shooting bad guys on a video game side by side with Bruce. That was probably the pathetic reason that she was actually smiling while she played the game.

"You all must see this! Doctor Banner has shot more targets in this simulation than Lady Natasha!" Thor called out.

It seemed to draw the attention of everyone and Natasha was equally surprised to realize it was true. Bruce was outgunning her. It was only a game, but still, she hadn't even thought the meager scientist knew how to _aim_ a gun. It was fairly impressive.

"I have a newfound respect for you, Doc," Clint stated.

Steve was chuckling, "Are we _supposed_ to keep beating the birthday girl?"

"How old-fashioned of you my star-spangled friend," Tony replied with a snicker, "but this is the twenty-first century and we _do_ beat the birthday girl in this century."

Natasha heard Bruce laugh the second she managed to smack the billionaire upside the head with the plastic gun while shooting one of the targets at the same time.

"Now that's something that I _can't_ do, trick shots," Bruce informed them all.

Again, it drew a laugh from each of the team and Natasha felt her lips curl upward once more. It wasn't much longer before the game ended but Bruce did wind up beating her by just a few points in the end. She was actually sort of glad that he wasn't the type of person to just let her win because that would have actually pissed her off. She turned to glance over at the rather embarrassed look on his face and she smirked, "Was that payback for me beating you at your game?"

It worked to put him at ease because he grinned a little, "Maybe..."

"Is this a test of mortal strength?" came Thor's question.

Natasha blinked rapidly as she turned to where Thor was standing. Sure enough, the God of Thunder was currently standing at one of those pathetic strength test machines. She didn't see this going particularly well but she crossed her arms and watched without saying a word.

Fortunately, Steve seemed to know what was about to happen, "Uhh...Thor, try not to break the machine. It _is_ meant for mortals."

Thor looked befuddled for a moment before he made an 'o' shape with his mouth. "I see, I shall restrain myself," he assured them all.

Natasha watched as he barely tapped it and the little bell rung in a fraction of a second with a '100' up top. She shook her head with a bemused little smile, "Fancy that, Thor already hit the bell."

"I believe I could have rung the bell with only my little finger," Thor assured her.

She arched an eyebrow up, "Prove it."

It brought forth another laugh from the entire team as Thor stared at her and then he turned determinedly towards the machine. Sure enough, he hit the target with his pinky finger and she felt her lips instantly curl into a grin when the bell didn't ring and a '99' appeared at the top. Thor looked absolutely mortified as he attempted it again. '98'. Again. '99'.

"Well...I'll be a bilgesnipe's uncle," Thor commented as he stared at the machine like it were something unholy, "I cannot reach 100 with just my little finger."

Tony belted out a laugh as he picked up the hammer that was _supposed_ to be used on the machine and gave it a whack. A whopping '92' appeared on the top in red and he finally removed his sunglasses and raised up both of his eyebrows in pure disbelief. "I think it's broken," he decided.

Steve took the hammer next, gave it a rather meager whack, and the bell rang out with a '100' appearing on top. "Looks like it works to me."

Clint was laughing as he took the hammer that was passed to him next. "I just want to say...this game in no way reflects on my awesomeness, but..." _whack,_ '97', "I'm stronger than Stark."

The hammer was being held out from Clint to Bruce and Natasha could see him giving it a rather uncertain look as he took it. Tony seemed to put him at ease with the situation before she could with his comment, "Bruce, my man...if you get a higher score than me, I _will_ find a way to destroy you."

"Sounds like a challenge, Bruce," Natasha told him, "kick his ass."

Bruce chuckled a little before he looked at the machine. Finally he shook his head a little, turned to the machine, and whacked the silver target with the hammer. Natasha followed it up with her eyes as it went to a '95' and she found herself wondering if Bruce held back or not. It was impossible to know how strong the scientist actually was since he actively avoided anything physical as himself. If he didn't have increased strength when he wasn't The Hulk, then hitting a '95' was actually pretty impressive for a man who avoided a fight.

"Bruce...I hate you right now," Tony informed his best friend.

It once again drew a laugh from each of the Avengers and Natasha shook her head a little as Bruce gave him a tiny little shrug. Then Bruce was giving her the hammer. She could see the look that both Tony and Clint gave her and Clint seemed to notice in an instant that Tony knew about her own serum. She glanced between the entire team and the machine. It wouldn't take a whole lot of effort for her to ring the bell.

This wasn't something she had ever had to worry about before. She had never been in a position where her strength would be measured, even if it was just a game, and she did her best to hold back as she hit the target with the hammer. All of their eyes followed the red line as it raised up and at the very last second, it reached the top, the bell rang, and a '100' appeared at the top. Natasha had to force herself not to grimace but at least it looked like she could only just barely ring the bell.

Steve, Thor and Bruce all looked alarmingly impressed and Clint managed to make himself look at least a little surprised. It was Tony who drew the attention off of her ability to ring the bell, "Told you that thing was broken. No way Romanoff is hitting harder than Barton."

It seemed to work because it had the other men all clamoring back and forth about Tony being sexist and she shot him a grateful look. He gave a rather nonchalant shrug and continued spouting back and forth with the other men about how there was no feasible way she was stronger than Clint.

The rest of the day in the arcade was much of the same. Racing games, shooting games, basketball, pinball, then lasertag where it was herself and Clint versus the rest of the team.

Without any doubt of how it would end, she and Clint won without Bruce, Thor, Tony or even Steve standing a chance.

Then Clint faced all of them on his own.

He won that, too, with the end of the fight being herself and Clint. It was exactly like he had told Bruce the day before. Her expertise was more hand-to-hand while Clint's was distance.

Plus, the man always found the most ridiculous hiding places. He finished her off from the damned rafters of the laser tag arena.

Turned out, the only thing she was actually better at than anyone else in the arcade was Whack-a-Mole. She even lost at Go-Karts and her driving skills were nothing if not masterful. Oddly enough, Thor wrecked everybody when it came to racing those ridiculous little karts around the track.

It was later that night when they were all back at the tower that she sat down with her slice of cake beside Bruce. She returned his awkward little smile with a tiny one of her own before she took a bite. It was only after she chewed and swallowed that she spoke, "You know, Tony gave me a bottle of vodka at the arcade. I got one swig and never saw it again."

Bruce laughed in an instant, coughing a little as he smacked his chest to coax his piece of cake down his throat. "Sounds like something he would do," he admitted once he cleared his throat. "Did you at least have fun? I mean...you looked like you had fun, but..."

"But I'm good at pretending?" she questioned with a knowing smile. He looked like he was afraid he might have offended her but she just shrugged. "It's a fair assumption," she assured him. "I did have fun though. I lost at almost every game I played, but...I had fun."

"That's good," Bruce told her with a bigger smile, "Happy birthday then."

It was hard _not_ to smile back at him when they were stuck in the strangest stare down. She could feel another pair of eyes on them and while she _hoped_ it was Tony, she knew for a fact that it was actually Clint. She didn't even have time to think about what he might think of their weird interaction when Bruce did the one thing she never imagined he would.

He flung a piece of his cake right into her face.

Stunned didn't even begin to explain how she felt as she blinked a few times to try and figure out what the hell to do.

Tony's rather exuberant voice brought her out of the shocked state, "Holy shit! Bruce, you better run!"

Bruce didn't run, but he looked like he was downright frightened of retaliation. The laugh fell from her lips in an instant before she placed her plate down, swiped some of the icing off her own cheek, then flicked it at his nose. "You're a huge dork, Bruce," she told him with a smirk, ignoring the laughter from the rest of the men.

She watched Clint walk over and clap Bruce proudly on the shoulder, "You're my hero right now, Banner. Most men would be dead right now."

"Glad to be the exception," Bruce told him with a sheepish smile.

Natasha snickered, picked her plate back up, and gently pushed her cake right into Bruce's face. "Payback is a bitch, Doc."

But he had been right. She didn't want to punch Tony for the birthday party. In fact, she sort of wanted to thank him. He managed to turn a reminder of the worst day of her life into one of the best. That was something she never imagined to be possible.

* * *

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this insanity. :)  
**


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note** : Well, this chapter came out longer than I planned and went nowhere that I initially planned for it to go. So, with that being said, enjoy the drama of your regularly scheduled programming.

 **Chapter 27** :

" _I hear you fancy yourself a hero..."_

" _Hardly..."_

 _Natasha would never dare to call herself a hero. She hadn't joined the Avengers out of some heroic sense of justice. She had joined them because Loki had taken the one person she had ever been able to care for and turned him into his puppet. He had forced her to face things that haunted her. He had killed Coulson. She had been compromised for the first time in years and she wanted to end Loki for it, or at least be part of the team that did._

 _No. She didn't join to become a hero. She joined to be exactly who she was made to be._

" _That's probably for the best. You make a lousy hero, Nat, and a pretty lousy friend." She turned her head from Niko and looked to Clint who spoke while leaned back in a chair, one leg crossed over the other and his arms resting behind his head. "A real friend wouldn't have told me to join a war. A real friend would have sent me home to my family. Sent me home, not sent me off to fight and possibly die. Admit it...we should have died and we both know it. We aren't equipped to fight monsters and magic. Now I'm back at it again because you're still doing it."_

" _You're not a very good Auntie either...you're never around."_

Natasha jerked awake at Lila's disappointed voice and took a few shaky breaths. She turned over in her bed and stared at the glaring red numbers on the clock. _1:04am_. She only slept for a measly forty minutes and it only made her more tired than she already was before. She dragged the pillow back over her face but falling back to sleep was an even worse mistake.

 _As soon as she landed back in the dream, Lila was standing there again, little pigtails showing innocence but a knife held in her hand to show the exact opposite. "If I become like you, can I see you more, Auntie Nat? Can you show me how?"_

She snapped her eyes back open in an instant and threw the pillow against the wall, followed immediately by the clock that blinked an angry _1:10am_ at her. The anger that filled her was a whole new level of rage that she had never experienced and she rolled out of the bed and got to her feet as quickly as she could. It almost felt like the red of her trigger might once more take over her vision and she couldn't think of what to do as she paced up and down the hall of her miniature apartment in the tower.

She couldn't take it any longer. The nightmares never seemed to end and from the looks she had been receiving over the last two weeks since her supposed birthday, the entire team could tell. She wasn't sure if this was her minds way of telling her that she didn't deserve to have fun, she didn't deserve a day full of laughter and didn't deserve to have fun, but that was what she assumed her mind was telling her.

Natasha didn't deserve to have the Barton children look up to her like some sort of role model. She didn't deserve to have Bruce Banner be _bothered_ by her. Not in that way.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock._

She paused in that moment and stared at the main door to her personal space.

"Natasha?"

And there he was. Bruce's voice didn't help to calm her down, if anything, it only furthered the dark pit that was overwhelming her. Even so, standing still and remaining quiet didn't deter him, if anything it made him more bold. She heard the unlocked door open and close and within seconds he was standing just a few feet in front of her.

"Sorry, I just—I heard something break when I got off the elevator..." he offered up in explanation, "are you...okay?" His hand reached up towards her face as he moved towards her and she jerked away, taking a step back without meaning to. "Natasha?"

"I..." she lost the words she was going to give him and tried to think of what to say.

"What can I do?" Bruce asked quickly with his usual worry, "what do you need?"

Lately she needed Bruce himself in order to get some semblance of peace with herself and that was something altogether new. She learned a long time ago to never, _ever_ , allow herself to rely on someone else. Somehow Bruce's monster, his self-hatred, and his uniquely dorky self had broken through every barrier that Red Room built around her and even the ones that she herself had erected. "I don't know," she admitted, "I'm just tired."

"I know," Bruce admitted with a concerned expression and a slight tilt to his head. To his credit, he seemed to be doing a rather remarkable job of not trying to touch her again, though she could tell that he was barely holding onto the restraint. "You've been worse since your birthday...is that what this is about?"

"It was probably the most fun I've ever had," she admitted.

The answer only seemed to confuse Bruce as she watched the crinkle form at his eyes in an attempt to understand. He seemed to give up on that effort as he decided to merely admit defeat, "I'm not sure I see the problem then."

The problem was that around him, even around the rest of the team, her control over herself was slipping further and further out of reach. "That's not me," Natasha told him, "I'm...not fun."

"Could have fooled me," Bruce replied with the shiest smile.

She didn't react to that in any way except to say, "Yeah. I almost fooled myself."

Bruce seemed to have caught on after a few more seconds and then his eyes took on a softer and more mellow expression.

"I can't be that person. I can't be someone who goes to an arcade and plays ridiculous games. I can't be someone that I'm not," she explained to him as she turned and moved back towards her bedroom. She could hear his footsteps shuffling behind her even as she stepped inside the room and picked up the wreckage of her clock.

"Nat—"

"I ruin everything I touch. _That's_ who I am." All she could think of was Lila in that moment, the one from her dream, the one who wanted to be just like her Auntie Nat. A killer. A murderer. A child prodigy for all things dark and destructive.

Bruce didn't look nearly as horrified as she imagined he might. He actually just looked sympathetic and it made her anger dissipate slowly. "It doesn't have to be," Bruce offered up. She was almost certain this conversation had been reversed not that long ago, when she had been triggered by Red Room and he had tricked her out of it. "I know it feels like that's who you have to be, because it's who you were made to be and you never got to choose otherwise..." he began with the smallest smile, "but if that's true...if you can't become someone who can have fun, who doesn't ruin things...then what can someone like me become? I've pretty much got a wrecking ball for a split personality."

It was an effective response because she felt the corners of her lips curl up just a little. "A wrecking ball? That's what you're gonna compare the Big Guy to?" she questioned with the slightest hint of amusement.

"Well, a big green wrecking ball, yeah."

Once she thought about it for another moment she gave a small inclination of her head, "Okay, that's—that's actually fairly accurate."

Bruce released a tiny laugh in response and she gave him another small smile. "Guess it was an extra bad night..." he mentioned as she dumped the remains of the clock in the trash.

And she couldn't talk about it even if she did want to. It wasn't her secret to tell, even if it was her nightmare and so she answered the only way that she could, and as honestly as she could, "The worst."

"Want me to stay?" he offered hesitantly.

Natasha made a note that he still hadn't dared to step too close nor had he attempted to touch her again since that first time. She glanced around the room where her blankets were sprawled across the floor, her pillow was at the other end of the room along with a few pieces of the clock that she had missed, and she really didn't want to be here. "No..."

"Okay, well...I'll leave you to—to breaking clocks and..." she watched as he paused to look at the pillow across the room and he looked at least a little amused, "throwing pillows?"

"That's not what I meant," Natasha assured him with a chuckle. "Your room would be better," she explained after he ruffled his brow slightly in uncertainty. He still looked a little befuddled and even a tad bit uncomfortable which caused the smiled that formed on her lips to become real. "To _sleep_ , Bruce..." she emphasized.

"Right! Right, my room is good then," Bruce stammered out awkwardly.

It removed the last of her anger and frustration from the nightmare and she chuckled as she followed him down the hall and out of her room. It became even more hilarious to watch him shuffle all the way down the main hall from her room to his and _then_ he fumbled with the doorknob. She eased her hand over his on the doorknob and smirked when he looked at her with a deer-in-the-headlights face. "Holy crap, Bruce. We're going to sleep not having sex," she reminded him. The red overtook his face in an instant and she pushed the door open for him. He went in first and instead of following she took a step back.

"I thought you—"

Natasha shook her head slightly and stopped his words in their tracks, "You're not comfortable." She wasn't entirely sure when the dynamics between them had shifted back to the beginning but somewhere in the last two weeks since her birthday, since three more missions and two more Code Greens, they had fallen back to his initial nervousness. "Maybe the question shouldn't be if I'm okay but if _you're_ okay," she tacked on.

Bruce ran a hand abashedly through his hair and rubbed at his eyes. "Long story."

And it seemed he didn't feel like sharing. He did, however, reach a hand out towards her as an offering for her to come into his room. He wore a rather pathetic smile and Natasha didn't have the heart not to take his hand as she let him pull her inside. Even when Bruce wasn't actually happy his eyes still held a remarkable warmth in them that she had never seen in anyone else's eyes. That was when one of the reasons why she had started this with him actually hit her. It was because Bruce held that warmth in his eyes and directed it towards her and until now, people who weren't Clint and his family, people who knew the real Natasha Romanoff, didn't look at her with warmth. They usually never looked past her fuller lips, her flawless figure, and what most men would call her 'bedroom eyes'. It wasn't that Bruce hadn't noticed those things right off the bat, but he never thought badly of her even when he disapproved of her work methods, and the shy scientist had always averted his eyes away when she wasn't attempting even a modicum of modesty.

"You asked me why I chose to be with you a few weeks ago," Natasha reminded him as she inched his door shut with her free hand and stepped closer to him.

Bruce blinked rapidly before he nodded hesitantly, "I remember...and you said that you didn't know."

"I don't have all the answers for you yet but I may have just figured out one of them," she admitted. She glanced down as she placed her hand over his chest, feeling the rapid _thumpthumpthump_ of his heart, then she glanced back up at him. Even through the nervousness she could still see warmth clouding his eyes, warmth and gentleness, it was oddly unique given that his other half wasn't so warm and certainly not gentle. "When Clint first brought me to SHIELD, I wasn't allowed to walk the halls without an escort. Most of the time I didn't even bother because everyone looked at me like I didn't belong there." She had to give Bruce credit because he remained silent, likely afraid that saying even one word would shut her up, and he was probably right in that assumption. "Even once Fury was willing to believe I could be more than what they made me, even after years of working there, I can count on one hand the number of people that stopped looking at me like that," she explained, "and you might have questioned a lot of things about me, Bruce, but you never once looked at me like I didn't belong. You look at me like you—like you care." The real truth was, Bruce had looked at her with that warmth even when he hadn't cared for her in _any_ sense of the word, and it was probably the sole reason why she had actually allowed herself to ever fathom the idea of getting closer to him.

That same warmth only seemed to grow after she spoke and Bruce's eyes never left hers as his hands gripped either side of her face as gently as possible. "I do care..." came his insistent voice. "As glad as I am to have at least a partial answer...I'd be a lot more glad if I knew you finally got some sleep..." he added.

Natasha gave him the barest of smiles in response, "I'll try."

Once his hands released her face, one of his hands removed her hand from his chest and she followed when he led her down the hallway and towards the bedroom. "Trying is all I ask," Bruce assured her. "And...thanks for telling me."

He was at least a little calmer once they had laid down but she kept to her own side of the bed regardless of that. His 'long story' clearly had something to do with her and though she was willing to let him have that secret, she wasn't about to ruin her chances of actually getting some decent sleep by asking questions, or by getting too close when he was clearly nervous about something. Instead she tucked an arm under the pillow, laid on her side facing away from him, and forced herself not to think about it.

 _Thumpthumpthump. Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump._

And it was several minutes of that when she finally popped her eyes back open. "Bruce...do you want me to leave?"

"What? N-no."

Natasha turned over to face him and stared at the way he laid there stiffly, staring straight up at the ceiling. She couldn't relax like this even if she wanted and she sat up with a sigh as she rubbed at her face. "I will anyways," she informed him as she moved to get off the bed. Bruce's nervous hand grasped her wrist and she turned to look at him. Neither of them had much of a chance to speak any further because a second later they both heard his front door open and then footsteps rapidly ran down his hall.

She didn't even have time to react when Tony came bounding into the room and she could smell the scotch the second he did. She arched an eyebrow up just slightly when Tony looked between both of them, raised both of his eyebrows up, then grinned. "You told her about the dream?" came the immediate question.

Natasha felt her brow wrinkle in response as she gave Bruce a quizzical look. "The dream?"

"The _dream_ , Romanoff!" Tony announced. She moved closer to Bruce on instinct when the billionaire actually bellyflopped onto the bed where she had been sitting and now she was so close to Bruce that she was practically on top of him. "The dirty dream, the dirty, naughty, scintillating dream. About _you_!" and with that he actually had the gall to bop her nose with his index finger.

Once again she gave Bruce a curious look but his alarmed and embarrassed response of, "Oh God..." as he covered his embarrassed face with his hands pretty much cleared everything up in an instant.

"Ah...I see we didn't actually discuss this," Tony mumbled out as he glanced between them, "no matter. Romanoff, forget I said anything. Besides, we're here to talk about me, which makes me immensely happy to find you in Bruce's bed."

Natasha took a harrowing breath as Tony inched closer until she was officially left without any personal space. "Stark, I swear if you get any closer than you already are, I _will_ kill you," and that threat was genuine.

She could see Bruce finally seem to come back to his senses a little when he rubbed his eyes, ran his hands through his hair, then looked over with a stunned expression when he noticed Natasha's predicament. Tony's shoulder was pressed against hers and the only reason she hadn't escaped the strangest possible moment of her life was because escape lay with climbing over top of Bruce. He seemed uncomfortable enough as it was and she didn't have it in her to make it worse.

"Uh...Tony, what are you doing?" came Bruce's somewhat entertained voice. It seemed he was over the embarrassment of having his dream outed with Tony's further antics of joining them on the bed.

"I'm having cold feet," he announced.

Natasha groaned when he hooked his arm with her own and she tugged to try and remove it. It was a useless endeavor and she had to do her best to clamp down on every niggling voice telling her to strangle Tony Stark. "Stark, get off of me."

"No, you need to stay, you're a part of this, I _need_ you," Tony grumbled.

She was honestly afraid she might lose her restraint and then his previous statement before that actually hit her. "Cold feet about what?" she dared to ask, though now she could actually feel a smile creeping onto her face and even Bruce looked slightly more amused.

"I can't do it. I can't," Tony murmured out. Natasha did her best to hold back a laugh and she barely caught the little purple velvet box when he tossed it up and towards her. "And I can't find the right ring. I thought this was the right ring, but now I don't, how do I know if it's the right one?" he questioned. She was a little stunned, even more so when she opened the box and found out that what he considered 'wrong', was actually as on par with Pepper's tastes as it could ever get. It was elegantly simple and beautiful, a gold band that had the tiniest twisted loops around a simple and beautiful little heart shaped diamond and if she was right, little diamonds encrusted in the band itself. It wasn't wrong it all. It was actually as perfect for Pepper as perfect could possibly get. "I can't give her the wrong ring...look at everything she's put up with from me over the years. How could I give her the wrong ring?"

Natasha stared at the flawless choice in an engagement ring with a bit of a softer look. She could feel Bruce's eyes on her now and she scrunched up her nose just slightly. She ignored the way that Tony's head lolled on her shoulder in a defeated posture and she rolled her eyes just a little. "She's not actually planning a wedding," she informed him.

"She's not? She's not...and you're not—"

"She was messing with you," Natasha informed him. "And I didn't honestly think you would make it as long as you have without losing your mind and as shocked as I am to say, you're not even losing your mind over the idea of marrying her, you're losing your mind because you don't think you deserve her," she tacked on.

"I don't..." he mumbled out in response as he held onto her arm tighter.

This was the most awkward moment she had ever endured in her entire life, more awkward than the first time Clint had introduced her to his wife and son, which had previously ranked number one on her list. Being stuck in a bed with a ridiculously embarrassed Bruce and one very drunk Tony was officially taking over. The ring was what convinced her to stay where she was and she sighed a little before she spoke, "Stark." He seemed to be ignoring her, or maybe all the alcohol had given him selective hearing, either way she nudged his shoulder with her own, "Tony."

"What?"

"It's not the wrong ring," she assured him as she held it out to him. "I'm actually a little impressed...it's flawless."

Tony glanced from the ring to her face multiple times in a rather comical fashion with his mouth slightly agape. "It is?"

"It is."

Bruce spoke up for the first time since he asked Tony what he was doing there, "She's right, Tony...it's a great ring."

Tony took the velvet little box from her hands and tossed it up and down through the air until Natasha snatched it away from him. "Wait...so she _doesn't_ want to marry me?" came the sudden question in a rather horrified voice.

Natasha wished that smacking him would knock the drunk right out of him but she knew it wouldn't do any good. "Pepper would marry you in a heartbeat, Tony. She just didn't think you were serious, and to be honest, neither did I. You actually do want to marry her, don't you?" she questioned with a little bit of surprise now that she knew the truth.

"Of course I do," Tony grumbled out as he banged the back of his head against the headboard. "Where else would I find a woman like her? There is no other woman like her. Pepper is one of a kind. I don't want anyone else..."

Natasha gave him the tiniest smile and nodded through gritted teeth. "That's great...really it is," she told him. It was a little hard to ignore the way Bruce's shoulders shook a little against her own with his silent laughter.

"She's really pretty," Tony offered up next and she felt her breath hitch when he locked both his arms around her own arm and rubbed his goatee on her shoulder. It took every effort not to deck him and she could feel Bruce's shoulders shake even more. "Not that you aren't, I mean...you're great too, but still...no comparison. No offense."

Natasha bit down on her lower lip for a moment when he removed one arm from hers and patted her leg. Immediately she gripped his hand to remove it. "None taken."

"You are! You're adorable, not as adorable as Pepper, but damn close!" Tony assured her with another leg pat.

Once more, she pulled his hand off her leg. Adorable was definitely not something people usually associated with Natasha and she shook her head, finding it difficult not to laugh herself. "Really appreciate that," she assured him, "but it's okay, Tony, really...no need to console me. Pepper's definitely got one-up on me."

"Mmhmm...she does," Tony agreed, "you'll hold onto it until I'm ready, right?"

Natasha assumed he meant the ring and she supposed it couldn't hurt, but she was surprised he was entrusting something that important to her and not his best friend, "Me? Uh...sure."

"Thanks a bunch."

Once again, he had both arms hooked around her one arm and she took a deep breath when she heard what sounded like a snore. "Did he just fall asleep on me?" and she wasn't sure if she was more pissed or entertained with the idea.

Bruce's bemused voice answered in seconds, "Uh...I think so."

She puffed out her cheeks in an attempt to not completely lose her mind before she released that deep breath and decided she was more annoyed than amused, "I'm gonna kill him." It was the first laugh Bruce released out loud and she groaned a little, "Bruce, I swear if you don't get him off of me I really will kill him."

Bruce rolled off his side of the bed almost immediately and came around to the other side of the bed. Natasha tugged her arm free while Bruce pulled at Tony's arms and after an alarmingly weird forty-eight seconds she managed to get free and roll off the other side of the bed. There was a knock at the main door before either of them could figure out what to do with the passed out billionaire and then Pepper's voice rang out, "Bruce? Jarvis told me Tony was here and apparently causing mayhem..."

"Uh..." Bruce looked a little awkward and then she saw him motioning towards the velvet box in her hands. "He is, yeah!" he called back.

Natasha heard the door open, close, and heels clicked down the hallway on their way to the room. She stuffed the box with the ring into Bruce's end table drawer because, unfortunately, her skin tight shorts and tank top didn't exactly come equipped with pockets. Short of shoving it between her breasts, there was no other option available. The awkward moment came almost immediately when she realized she had dropped that purple velvet box directly next to an equally sized _blue_ velvet box. She blinked rapidly and heard Bruce's sharp intake of breath. She snapped the drawer shut again just seconds before Pepper stepped into the room.

"Oh, Natasha," Pepper sounded more than surprised to see her in Bruce's bedroom and it seemed that Bruce and Tony didn't share _everything_ with the other redhead. The silence that filled the room officially topped the awkwardness of being in that bed with Tony _and_ Bruce.

Natasha knew why this had become weird for herself. The combination of Bruce's supposed dirty dream and his awkwardness over it, Tony jumping in bed with them, and then the second ring-sized jewelry box inside Bruce's end table and she was about at her limit even before Pepper joined the fray. Pepper's eyes grew a little concerned as she glanced between herself and Bruce and Natasha found herself fighting every single instinct that told her to run for the hills.

The silence ensued further until Pepper ended it. "I'm so sorry about this," she offered up with a sigh as she walked over to Tony on the bed and smacked him upside the head. "Tony!"

"W-what?! Are we under attack?!"

Natasha quirked an eyebrow up as Tony jumped up on the bed in a rather pathetic defensive stance with his fists raised in the air.

Then he teetered and fell off the side while Pepper sidestepped to avoid the possible collision.

She watched as Pepper rolled her eyes, grabbed Tony by the rumpled tie and dragged him back to his feet. "Let's go, tiger," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," came Tony's agreement as he followed her out of the bedroom like a puppy.

It was eerily silent between Natasha and Bruce for far longer than she was comfortable with and she only moved to open the drawer back up and take the ring back that she promised to hold onto for Tony. Once again she found her eyes on that little blue box and she shoved the drawer back closed as quickly as possible. "I should go," she decided in an instant.

Bruce looked absolutely mortified as she tucked Tony's ring box tighter in her grip before she stepped out of the room and made a rather hasty exit. "Natasha, Natasha wait!" came Bruce's desperate voice. "Natasha, _please_!" and she had just gotten her hand on the doorknob when she froze at his words. "Please...I promise that is _not_ what you think it is," came his quick assurance.

Natasha took a few breaths before she removed her hand from the door and looked back at Bruce, "So there isn't a ring in that box?"

He clammed up for a moment and she shook her head slightly before she went to open the door again. "Natasha...maybe it—maybe it is exactly what you think it is, but—but I swear it's not there for the reason you think..."

She certainly hoped that was true and even though she was desperate to leave, she still didn't open the door and try, and instead she shifted her weight from one foot to the other before she turned back to completely face him. "Then what exactly is the reason for there to be a ring in there?" she dared to ask.

It was a slightly pained expression that covered his face and his mouth opened and closed a few times before clamping shut. Once again Natasha watched as Bruce dragged his nervous hands through his mess of hair and she waited rather impatiently for the explanation. Finally his mouth opened again with the stammered out answer, "I...it was...the ring, I mean..."

"Bruce...just spit it out," she ordered.

"It was from a long time ago..." Bruce finally admitted, "a really...really long time ago."

Natasha let that sink in for a few seconds and once it did she understood what he meant. Years ago that ring had been meant for someone and she had a feeling she knew who. It was strange how that didn't exactly make her feel better but it did allow her to relax her shoulders just a little and loosen the grip on the ring meant for Pepper. "Did you ever ask her?" she finally dared to ask.

"What?" Bruce looked absolutely bewildered and confused before he seemed to understand what she thought. "N-no, Natasha, that ring wasn't for Betty," came yet another stammered out reply.

Now she was at a loss for _what_ she was actually supposed to think here. The pain on his face looked overwhelming and she took a step closer to him, only knowing that she had completely screwed this up when Bruce was the one to step away. Realization dawned on her and hit her like a sack of bricks. She felt immensely more horrible than she had before. "It was your mother's..." she murmured in understanding.

She wished she had never seen that blue box when the next words left his mouth, "Maybe you should go after all..."

"Right..." and Natasha gave the barest of nods when he didn't say anything else as she turned and opened the door. It was only when she was stepping out that she spoke again in a softer tone, "I'm really sorry, Bruce."

And she didn't wait for him to say anything else as she closed the door behind her and she certainly didn't dare to look back. It seemed that Pepper and Tony had been forced to wait for the elevator and she could see Pepper giving her a worried look. She had to assume that the two had heard the conversation but neither Pepper nor Tony dared to say anything to her regarding it.

Natasha kept her hand hidden with the box on the opposite side as she passed them and went back to her own room. She could at least not screw up _one_ thing.

* * *

 _Red hair framing the flawless porcelain skin of her face._

 _Green eyes that bore more emotion than he had ever seen in them before._

 _The way that shallow dip in her waist helped her sway even more seductively as she tugged slowly at the zipper on the back of a little black dress._

 _A merciless and slanted little smile as that little black dress dropped to a pool at her ankles._

And Bruce flew out of the bed in an instant. He couldn't have felt worse that next morning if he had tried. Looking at the clock told him that he was supposed to be in a session an hour ago for Natasha and the Other Guy to work out some kinks with the lullaby, but he didn't have it in him, not after last night and certainly not after that dream had reared its head again.

This was all more than he could physically handle and their relationship was uniquely _lacking_ in the physical. It sort of made it all the more ironic. There was no possible way he could without losing control and Natasha said that a physical relationship meant absolutely nothing to her anyways. In a way he had never been more relieved to hear a woman say that, but thinking about it now, it made him feel selfish for being glad she felt that way. There was an unspoken reason that Natasha didn't associate the physical aspects of normal relationships _with_ an actual relationship, an unspoken reason that he could only guess at, and his thoughts never led anywhere pleasant.

Bruce swore he saw actual fear in Natasha's eyes when she had seen the jewelry box that was, once upon a time, his mothers. The ring was a painful reminder of what he most definitely should have never started again with Natasha. A reminder that he came from a monster and then became one himself. A monster that would hurt anyone. He hadn't meant to kick her out of his room, the words came out before he could control them, and it wasn't often he saw pure and unadulterated guilt on her face, but he saw it when she walked away. He couldn't blame her for being horrified by the sight of the jewelry box when neither of them could admit what they even were to each other. They had kissed less times than he could count on both hands and shared the bed even less so.

Truthfully, he hadn't even been upset with her over her fear of the ring, he had just been upset over the reminder of who he really was. Bruce wondered if Natasha knew that there was absolutely nothing he could offer her, nothing he could offer to anyone. He had nothing to give. He could barely control himself over a kiss and then there was that damned dream making it even worse for him.

He didn't have time to dwell on it further. Once again someone had intruded into his personal space without actually asking and Bruce was illogically afraid that it might be Natasha. The heavy footsteps were a relief and soon enough his big-mouthed best friend appeared in the doorway once more. It wasn't all that often that Tony looked like he felt bad about something he did, but this _was_ one of those moments, and his words proved it, "Bruce, I sort of heard that little spat between you and Romanoff last night."

Bruce wasn't sure it could be considered a spat. There were no harsh words, no fight, just one gigantic and confusing misunderstanding. At least that was what he found himself hoping it was. Regardless of his thoughts that he shouldn't have started anything remotely romantic with Natasha, that he had nothing to give her, it certainly didn't mean that he wanted anything to end between them either.

"I didn't mean to go blowing up your spot about the dream. I definitely didn't plan to uh...to nuzzle Romanoff's shoulder," and Bruce felt a little better at the discomfort Tony said that with.

"You also called her adorable," Bruce reminded his friend.

"Right, didn't meant to do _that_ either, so thanks for that rather unpleasant reminder." Tony sighed a little as rubbed at his temples before his question formed, "Are you two alright?"

Were they? Bruce couldn't be sure given that he had avoided her this morning. "I...haven't talked to her since last night..." he admitted.

Tony actually grimaced a little, "I thought you had a lullaby thing..." And Tony glanced down at his watch, "Like...now? Bruce, man, what are you doing?"

"Avoiding her..." he admitted.

He heard the groan emit from his friend's mouth. "Bruce, the two of you were _just_ in the same bed. I've never seen two people run so hot and cold in my life," he grumbled out.

"And in case you were too drunk to notice, that wasn't going spectacularly well either, Tony," Bruce told his friend. "She was about to leave before you jumped us anyways."

"Alright, I'm not saying that whatever happened with you two was actually your fault and not hers, but given my wealthy expertise on women, I'm telling you to go say sorry, kiss her, and beg for forgiveness."

Bruce rolled his eyes, " _That's_ your expert opinion?"

"The woman is always right, Brucie, in case you didn't know. Plus...you kicked her outta your room, man. The fact that she was trying to run out of there anyways? Not even remotely important," came Tony's blatant reminder. "I get that there was some misunderstanding about the uh...the ring you seem to have. You didn't want to talk about it and I get that, too."

It was probably the best advice anyone could give him considering that he _had_ kicked her out. It didn't help that Clint Barton's words from two weeks ago were running through his mind on repeat:

" _She honestly enjoys being around you to the point where she's...almost a normal person."_

It was becoming more and more true. Slowly more emotions displayed themselves on her face, probably more than Natasha thought, and according to Clint that was because of Bruce himself. When the man who had known her for almost ten years said he had never seen her talk to anyone else the way she talked to Bruce, that meant more than anything else, and it also told him to go find Natasha. "I guess I should talk to her..." he mumbled out.

"Probably a good plan, I did entrust her with Pepper's engagement ring after all," Tony reminded him.

"Why _did_ you give that to Natasha?" Bruce questioned with curiosity. He wasn't sure who had been more surprised by Tony's request that she hold onto that ring, Bruce or Natasha, but she had been surprisingly good-natured about Tony's rather impromptu bed intrusion and drunken closeness.

Tony gave the smallest shrug, "I entrusted my most valued possession to a world class spy and assassin, Bruce. I think she was actually the best guard dog I could have chosen." Bruce blinked several times at Natasha being called a guard dog. "Besides, you lose your glasses when they're still on your face, so no offense but you weren't holding the ring," came the explanation.

Bruce laughed lightheartedly at the comment but he couldn't deny the validity of the statement. "Fair enough..." he agreed.

"Alright, alright, I'll leave so you can go and find the woman that you're having this complicated little dalliance with," Tony added as he headed towards the hall. "But I really am sorry. I know I sort of...caused all of this."

"Not your fault, Tony," Bruce assured him, "things were a little weird even before you jumped into bed with us. You just made it a little weirder."

Tony snickered in an instant, "Tch...Pepper tells me I make things _better_ when I jump into bed."

"Didn't need to know that," Bruce replied with a bemused sigh.

"Mhmm..." Tony acknowledged that comment and waved it off just as easily as he left.

Bruce chuckled a little before he decided to check on Natasha's location, "Jarvis, where can I find Natasha?"

"Miss Romanoff is currently in the kitchen on your shared floor, Doctor Banner," came Jarvis' immediate reply.

Certainly not the answer he expected but at least it meant he didn't have to go far to find her. It also didn't give him much time to think of a decent way to apologize for asking her to leave last night. Of course, even if he had thought of something to say, the words would have been immediately lost to him upon walking into the kitchen. Natasha sat at the table with her right elbow on the table and her chin resting in the palm of her hand. Her eyes were closed, her breathing was shaky, and a bagel with a measly two bites taken from it lay on a plate in front of her.

Natasha had fallen asleep eating breakfast, and given the harried breathing, she wasn't sleeping very well. She hadn't moved at the sound of his footsteps and normally sounds that most people couldn't hear sent the light-sleeping assassin on full alert. "Natasha?" he questioned softly, trying his best not to startle her. He vividly remembered waking her back in India and he wasn't sure he wanted to relive that experience again right now.

Nothing.

She still didn't budge and that worried him a little more. He knew she was tired but he had never seen her _this_ tired. Now he was willing to actually move to her and he placed his hand on her shoulder. Either Natasha was worse off than he thought, or she had known it was him and ignored him up until now, but either way she slowly eased her eyes open to look at him. "Are you okay?"

"I was before your heavy footwork woke me up," Natasha mumbled out, "and why _are_ you waking me up?"

And it seemed he was wrong. She had been awake the entire time. Bruce frowned a little before he answered the question, "Because you fell asleep at the kitchen table?"

She blinked a few times before taking in her surroundings and then looking at him with the slightest bit of confusion. "Shit...I slept through our training session with the Big Guy," she sounded more than a little frustrated with herself.

It stunned him. Natasha had no idea that he hadn't shown up either and he eased his hands over her shoulders to sit her back down. "Relax. I sort of missed it too," he admitted. She had also just admitted that she had started her breakfast well over an hour ago and the red mark on her chin proved it. Bruce shook his head a little and sighed, "I should have never told you to leave."

Natasha chuckled a little, "I sort of deserved it. I mean...it was a little presumptuous to think that jewelry box was for me, though if it had been, I think my reaction was fair."

"It was just a little over the top," he informed her in amusement. "But not all that presumptuous," Bruce told her. "Who else _would_ I be giving jewelry to?" he questioned with a chuckle.

He should have seen her teasing reply coming but some comments from Natasha weren't always what one expected, "Well, given that Stark apparently jumps into your bed in the middle of the night, I wouldn't exactly be surprised if you were giving him jewelry."

It forced a laugh from him immediately as he shook his head, "I guess I should have warned you about that...he sort of takes friendship to a new level."

"Without a doubt," she agreed with a shake of her head. He was surprised how easily they had shifted from uncomfortable back to easy banter, but her next comment was less than expected and pushed them right back out of his comfort zone, "You don't talk much about your mother."

Bruce was silent as he tried to think of a response. "Thinking about her reminds me of the day he killer her," he admitted.

Natasha's eyes took on that gentle look that only appeared on rare occasions. "You don't remember anything else about her?" came the question.

"I do, that's just the first one that always comes to mind," he explained.

"You carry that picture of her on you?" came the next question. Bruce stared at her with uncertainty before he gave a small nod and pulled it from the inside pocket of his jacket and held it out to her. She took it and he watched her eyes roam over it, taking in every detail just like she was trained to do, and it wasn't the first time she had done so. Months ago she had seen the picture and done much the same over his shoulder before she told him that he had his mother's 'kind eyes'. "She really is beautiful," Natasha offered up with what sounded like complete sincerity.

Bruce smiled a little at her, "She was."

Natasha's eyes remained fixed on the picture for a few seconds longer before she handed it back to him. He stared down at it just like she had, though he didn't really need to for the same reasons she had, then he tucked it back into place in his pocket. "You know...I wasn't wrong."

He raised both of his eyebrows up in confusion.

"When I told you that you were nothing like your father," came the painful reminder. He had forgotten when she said that to him, forgotten when she tried to reassure him that he wasn't a monster, and that was before they had even become friends let alone whatever they were now. "He was wrong about you just like you're wrong about yourself," she told him.

"And how exactly do you know that?" Bruce questioned. Once again she was flaring frustration in him with her choice of conversation. They were also once more trading places for who tried to tell the other they weren't what they thought of themselves.

Natasha stepped closer to him and one thing he was starting to notice was that she was less cautious about other people seeing their closeness than he was. For some reason he had always thought it was her that was more cautious until he noticed that she wasn't shying away from anything the other team members might misconstrue, or rather, see for what it was. "Last time you said that I didn't actually know you," she reminded him. He sucked in a breath when she rested her hand over his heart much like she had last night and gave him a tight lipped smile, "I told you that I didn't need to know you well to know that and this time I know you better."

There were times he questioned that, just like he questioned what he knew about her, but he didn't say it. It was Clint's words, reminding Bruce that Natasha absolutely _did not_ talk to people this way, that kept him from saying she was wrong. It kept him from reminding her that they really didn't know much about each other at all. He also reminded himself there weren't very many people who knew as much about her as he did. "I guess..." he finally agreed, "but not being like him doesn't mean I won't hurt you. I can't control the the Other Guy."

"Maybe not, but I've seen Nat with him."

Both he and Natasha turned to glance back at Clint in the doorway. Bruce felt the coolness seep in where Natasha had removed her hand from his chest as she turned fully to face her best friend.

"Dude, you've got some anger problems, but the second she calls out to him, The Hulk stops whatever he's doing, or, you know...smashing," Clint pointed out next, "I mean, he's not always thrilled with the aspect of letting you be you again...but it didn't look to me like he would hurt her." Bruce could see Natasha's 'I told you so' smirk as Clint walked over and snatched Natasha's one single unhealthy food of choice in the kitchen. A can of pizza flavored pringles. The archer pulled off the plastic lid and popped a chip into his mouth with a crunch when the redhead shot him a dirty look and snatched the can back from him. "You and him are like pringles, once you pop you just can't stop...until Nat intervenes," Clint mentioned as he gave his partner a sour look.

Bruce felt the smile creep up onto his face against his will and it grew further when Natasha dramatically rolled her eyes and retorted with, "I'll pop you if you keep stealing my food. It never used to go missing before you moved into the tower."

Clint snickered and Bruce felt the need to at least say thank you to the man. He figured it could cover the basis of all the weird uninvited, but rather helpful, conversations about Natasha and now this moment as well. "Thanks, Barton."

"Sure thing," Clint commented as though it were absolutely nothing, "outside opinions can be the best remedy." Bruce chuckled when the other man glanced back over to Natasha with an innocent look, "See? I deserve more pringles for this."

A single eyebrow quirked up on Natasha's face as she stared at her partner. A moment later she pulled out a chip and tossed it to him. Clint caught it and popped it right into his mouth and it took all of Bruce's effort not to laugh when Natasha replied with a, "Good boy."

"That's just offensive, you only get to treat me like a dog for _three_ pringles."

Natasha tossed him one more.

"That's two."

"You had one before those two, that's three," Natasha replied easily.

Clint shrugged that off before he seemed to remember _why_ he was actually up in their shared kitchen. "Oh, right, I'm supposed to tell you that Stark has another target for us. Team meeting in an hour."

Bruce watched as Natasha gave him a strange look in response, "Why didn't he have Jarvis tell us?"

"He was, Miss Romanoff, but Mister Barton was insistent he come and tell you," came Jarvis' voice.

"That so?" Natasha questioned with a slanted little smile.

"Tattletale," Clint grumbled.

Natasha rolled her eyes a little as she questioned it, "So why are you telling us and not Jarvis?"

"Because Jarvis doesn't have pringles and you do," Clint answered matter-of-factly. Bruce snickered when the archer went to toss the chip into his mouth and Natasha snatched it out of the air and ate it herself.

"That's not entirely true, Mister Barton," came Jarvis' interruption. "Many of the commissary areas in the tower have pringles in them."

Clint looked absolutely floored by the newfound knowledge, "How come you didn't tell me that?!"

"You never asked."

Bruce and Natasha released laughs at the exact same time at Jarvis' rather proud reply.

"Are there sour cream and onion ones?" Clint questioned quickly.

"Indeed. They are in the kitchen on Thor's floor by his personal request along with many boxes of strawberry poptarts."

Clint was gone in an instant.

Natasha was shaking her head as she seated herself on the kitchen table and popped another of her own pringle chips in her mouth. "He's a sucker for sour cream and onion," came her explanation. Bruce chuckled a little until she spoke again, "So...we've discussed awkward moment number one. Should we discuss the next?"

"Um..."

"The supposed dream."

And the heat once more rose to his face. "I'm...so sorry about that..." he apologized instantly, "and for Tony. And for telling Tony even..."

 _Crunch crunch crunch_. Natasha had popped another chip into her mouth and was chewing away as she gave him a rather entertained look. "Doesn't bother me," came her reassurance after she finished chewing, "and as for telling Stark, well, I'm actually getting used to the fact that you literally tell that weird little man everything."

Bruce smiled a little. "Okay... well, maybe none of that bothered you..."

"But it did bother you," Natasha finished with a nod, "I know." She ate another chip with a more thoughtful look before she continued on, "Bruce, you're a man, just in case you forgot that little tidbit of information."

Bruce groaned in an instant, "That's exactly what Tony said."

"Well, he used to be the king of all things dirty, so I don't doubt that for a second," Natasha stated with the barest semblance of the shrug. Bruce felt his smile reappear quickly at the comment. "So, this dirty dream, how dirty is it?" she questioned. And once again, his entire face was engulfed in red at her question. The saucy little smile on her face did nothing to help the matter and he forced himself to take a deep breath. "Well?" came what seemed to be her honest curiosity.

Bruce sighed a little, "You...um..."

"Bruce, seriously? It was just a dream," she reminded him with an impish smile, "at least tell me I was good."

Bruce felt his jaw drop open in response, "I—I...um...I..."

Her eyebrow quirked upward once more as she popped another pringle in her mouth. "I must have been excellent for this reaction," she finally stated.

"No—no...you weren't," and then both her eyebrows raised upward, "oh, oh no! I don't mean that! I just meant... there wasn't any—anything physical between us...in the dream."

Natasha looked downright puzzled after his rather pathetic and stammering explanation. "Okay...now I'm failing to see how this dream is so dirty."

"Well...I mean...you were—you were..."

"Naked?"

"Yes..."

Natasha's smile came back full-force now as she placed the pringle can down on the table, crossed one leg over the other, then planted both hands on the table just behind her as she leaned back and gave him a rather amused expression. _Oh hell..._ "Bruce, that's hardly what I call a dirty dream. You clearly didn't tell Tony any details of this dream. You are a _prude_ ," she bit out with an adorable little laugh. "You've already _seen_ me naked, how does that dream possibly change that?"

"N-not like that..." he mumbled out.

Now she looked curious, "Oh yeah? Did I strip?"

"Um...y-yes."

Natasha chuckled, "Relax, Bruce. Honestly, I wasn't bothered when I thought this was a sex dream, but a stripper dream? Roll with it, and if it'll make you feel better, we can go in the room and I'll do it for real."

"What?! No!" Bruce groaned as he rubbed at his face, "Natasha...jeez."

She blinked at him a few times with obvious confusion, "I really don't see the problem here, Bruce."

"You don't? Because I do..." he told her quickly. "For one thing...thinking of you— _that_ way...not exactly good for me," he reminded her as he patted his chest just over his heart. Natasha gave the smallest nod to that. "And...the other problem is you."

"Me?"

"Natasha...you told me you weren't interested in _that_ , and this is completely disregarding the fact that I couldn't even if I wanted to," Bruce assured her, "I should _not_ think of you in that way when you don't want anything to do with it..."

Natasha narrowed her eyes slightly and angled her head to the side a little bit as she let that sink in. "That's what this is all about?" she questioned as she sat back up. "Bruce... dreaming about sex and _actually_ having it are two totally different things," she told him, "and I'll emphasize again...that was hardly even in the category of dirty dreams."

"I know that," he insisted with a sigh, "it's just...there's a reason you feel that way and it just feels...wrong."

Those impeccably green eyes softened gradually and Bruce watched as she stood up and stepped closer to him. _Very_ close to him. "Bruce, I know that you probably think that reason is something terrible, something horrible that someone did to me," she mentioned, "but it's not."

"It's...not?"

"No," she assured him. "To me it's just not something that..." and she seemed to be mulling over and choosing her next words as carefully as possible before she simply threw caution to the wind and let it roll out, "to me it's not the means to something more, it's the means to an end."

For half a second he didn't quite get it, then the realization dawned over him and he stared at her. Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. He hadn't even remotely thought that _that_ was the reason she that wasn't interested. He had created a sordid and unpleasant tale in his mind when, while this was still equally unpleasant, he did manage to feel the slightest bit more comfortable. The answer had been obvious. Sitting in front of him all this time just in the form of her code name. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have—"

"Bruce, relax," Natasha assured him with a shake of her head. "It's not a big deal and it's not like you're acting on it, you're actually remarkably more restrained than any man I've ever met, and I know you have one very...very green reason for that," she explained, "but I even know a few guys on the other side of the fence who've taken more liberties than you have."

He stared at her with his mouth slightly agape before the question left his mouth of it's own volition, "Did you even _want_ to do those things?"

That seemed to give Natasha pause as she let the question sink in. "Nobody's ever asked me that before," she admitted as she stepped away. "Honestly..." came the beginning to her answer, "I never really thought about. I never actually asked myself that question." She seemed like she was thinking about it as she looked off to the side slightly before she nodded her head a little, "The truth is, all of that was during a time when I felt...nothing. It was an effective weapon and that's all it was and all its ever likely to be to me."

Bruce nodded his head a little as she got an answer to that question for both of them and this time it was him who took a step closer to her. "Natasha, I should have never said anything," he insisted, "I should have never asked."

"It's alright," she told him with a small smile. "Apparently it's just been a really uncomfortable nine hours for both of us," she added.

Jarvis' voice rang out and cleared the air of the uncomfortable silence that grew between them after that, "Doctor Banner, Miss Romanoff. The rest of the team has begun to gather in the lounge."

"Thank you, Jarvis," Natasha told the AI.

"So...I guess we should go and do that then," Bruce mumbled out.

"Probably best," came her agreement.

Bruce really wished he could erase everything that happened after he showed up in her room the night before. Things had continuously shifted from okay, to awkward between them each time the subject changed and he sighed a little as he followed her to the elevator. It was hard to decide if they were okay or not. He wasn't sure if Natasha was alright with what she had revealed to him or not. Hell, he wasn't even sure he was alright with it. He was perfectly okay with Natasha herself, but her past was one of sordid horrors that seemed to only get worse the more it was revealed to him, the things she did under orders of the people who trained and brainwashed her...that he was _not_ okay with.

The elevator ride was quiet but not completely filled with tension as it made it's ascent to the lounge. It took a second before he felt Natasha's eyes on him and he glanced over to see her give him that little sideways smile.

They were okay.

Natasha would never say that she wasn't at fault, she would never say she was a victim of the Red Room, but Bruce knew that both were true. She was a child when they took her, and though she insisted that she _had_ a choice in what she became, she was innocent when they rewired her brain for things that no child should know or understand. She was only just now learning how to have things that had been denied to her for so long. Bruce would be damned but he was grateful for the day that she decided he was worth forcing her friendship upon. Plus...that warmth she always told him he carried in his eyes occasionally showed up in hers over the last few months as well.

In fact, it was in her eyes at that exact moment as she smiled his way and he couldn't help but to smile back at her.

* * *

 **Well. There's an emotional roller coaster for these two. _Hawkward..._ hahaha. Hawkeye, awkward, get it? Get it? xD**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28** :

" _You can close your eyes  
to the things you don't want to see.  
But you can't close your heart  
to the things you don't want to feel."_

Natasha was back in her bed early the night following the team meeting, which was also the night prior for their next target. Not that it helped, she still found herself laying there without actually falling to sleep. She ignored the knock at the door with the assumption that it was likely Clint and that he would just let himself in whether she extended the invitation or not. The person _did_ let themselves in, but much to her surprise, the footsteps certainly didn't belong to Clint.

She stayed turned on her side nonetheless and listened to the clearly uncertain and hesitant footsteps in the hall that she recognized as Bruce's. It was almost impossible not to smile when she realized that her uninvited intrusions into his room had seemingly rubbed off onto the awkward scientist as well. It was even harder not to just smile, but also not to laugh when he clearly paused outside of her bedroom as he debated how wise or unwise his decision might be. She didn't make it any easier when she refused to acknowledge his presence and she continued to feign sleep for the three minutes it took him to suck it up and step inside.

Even as he failed stupendously to be quiet while he moved towards the bed, and failed even more spectacularly as he tried to climb into the other side as nimbly as possible, she played possum. It wasn't until his leg sunk into the mattress in the wrong way and he landed half on top of her that the cork popped on the laugh that she had been holding inside. It came out a little more loudly than she meant it to and she let her right eye open as she looked at Bruce who was chuckling. "Smooth," she offered up with another breathy little laugh.

Bruce shook his head with that shy little smile as he shifted himself back onto the other side of the bed and onto his back. "You were never actually asleep, were you?"

"No."

It succeeded in making him laugh right up until she shifted, swung one of her legs over his waist and sat on top of him. The laugh turned into a cough as his face turned beet red and she smirked a little "You snuck into _my_ room, remember?" she questioned playfully.

"Y-yeah..." he mumbled out.

It was probably mean or cruel by some standards, but with him continuously getting uncomfortable after his dream, it seemed necessary to push him. However Natasha _was_ clad only in underwear and a tank top, something he didn't seem to realize until his eyes actually looked from her face and scaled downward. "I might have left more clothes on if I'd realized you were going to join me," she tacked on for good measure. He cleared his throat with obvious discomfort and she only leaned down towards him a little when she spoke again, "I could just go to sleep if it would make you feel better, I just thought we could practice."

Bruce looked like he was about to tell her to do just that when he leaned forward and caught her lips with his instead. It was the last thing she expected and it actually took a moment before her brain caught up with his actions. Each time Bruce kissed _her,_ the kiss tended to be more heated, much like their first kiss had been.

This time he didn't hold back and he only impressed her further. Bruce tangled one hand up in her tank top and the other in her hair as he pulled her down further until the liplock took on a new level, even for Natasha herself. It was also the first time the tiniest little flutter overtook her chest and she forced herself to pull away in surprise as she stared down at him.

"Natasha?" came his instantly worried tone.

And she really was letting Bruce get far too close for her liking. She let him through way too many of her walls than she felt comfortable with. But the flutter...the flutter left her curious enough to want to let him keep getting closer and the fact that he continuously worried that _he_ was the one doing something wrong gave her a reason not to rebuild the walls. She leaned forward and pressed her lips back to his once more, pressed both hands against his chest to push him flat down against the mattress while she tested the limits of both their comfort zones. The most surprising thing was that he _let_ her and she continued to feel the growing _thumpthumpthump_ in his chest when their lips parted and their tongues mingled.

Her hands only roamed slightly before Bruce groaned into her mouth and gave her a gentle push upward and Natasha shifted her leg back to her side of the bed and laid down with her head resting on his shoulder. It was quiet for a good half a minute besides Bruce's slightly labored breathing before his voice came out quiet and breathy, "I'm sorry..."

"For what?" she asked as she closed her eyes and listened to the way the beat of his heart began to slow back to normal.

"It's not exactly easy to...stay in control," he admitted, "not around you."

"So you've said before," Natasha reminded him as she cracked open her eyes again and shifted them to meet Bruce's while she gave him an honest smile, "but you're doing fine."

He left that alone, though he clearly disagreed as he changed the topic, "How did we even get to this point?"

"What? Kissing?" she questioned and at his nod she chuckled a little, "well, I'm fairly certain it started with this exact position." It worked because Bruce let out the tiniest laugh in response and she smirked as she gave the tiniest shrug against his chest.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

She left her one hand resting on his chest as she waited and listened to the question that he released, "Why keep bringing me on these missions? Admit it or not, but you understand more of this stuff than you've been letting on...so why bring me?"

That actually surprised her and she shifted off him and leaned her elbow on the bed as she rested her head on her palm and quirked both her eyebrows up at him. "You might be giving me too much credit, Bruce," she offered up. "Hacking I'm good at, maybe even great. Infiltrating facilities with dozens of armed guards? Definitely an expert at that. Killing, well, according to Stark I'm a master at that."

Bruce was chuckling, "Anything else?"

She knew it was a joke but she named off other things just for show, "Marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, interrogation—"

"Okay, okay," Bruce interrupted with a laugh, "I get it..."

"Unfortunately, science and these 'enhanced' humans that HYDRA has created? That's _not_ in my expertise," she tacked on. "You're there in case there's no time to download whatever we might find on those files because _you_ understand what you're seeing."

Bruce seemed determined to continue on, "So far we've only read about the enhanced, plus, whatever Maria has gotten ahold of from the...uh..."

"New SHIELD?" Natasha questioned with a chuckle.

"Yeah...that. So what happens when we actually come across one? So far we've avoided it, but what happens when a guy throws an entire vehicle at you? How do _you_ fight that?"

That actually made her snicker as she shifted a leg over him and sat on his waist once more. "Then I'll duck," she informed him casually before she pressed her lips to his once more.

"I'm serious..." he grumbled out against her mouth.

She smiled against the kiss, playfully bit down on his lower lip, then quirked another eyebrow up at him, "You worried about me, Doctor Banner?"

"Natasha...there's guys throwing fireballs and freezing things into blocks of ice..."

"I'm almost positive that they're both dead," she tacked on for good measure as she gave him a rather amused look.

He let out the tiniest sigh that showed he didn't find the way she passed off his worry with playful jokes to be amusing. "That...really isn't the point," he reminded her with the tiniest smile before he gave her the smallest and gentlest kiss that she had ever experienced.

Natasha gave him a real smile now as she leaned forward, crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin on her hands while she looked at him. "I'll be fine, Bruce," she assured him.

It seemed the topic of conversation was keeping him distracted enough from their close proximity because his heart had yet to begin racing. At least that was a bonus. "How do you know?" came the next question, "how do you know that the next one won't get the better of you?"

"I don't," she answered honestly, "but that comes with the job. When you do the things that I do, there's always a chance that you won't come back, but it's almost a guarantee that you won't if you stop believing that you will. But, enhanced or no enhanced, one day I'm going to wind up on the wrong end of things."

"But you just said—"

"There's a difference, Bruce. There's a difference between accepting that it'll be over one day and accepting that it'll be a _certain_ day," she explained. It didn't give him a whole lot of relief if the pained look on his face was any indication and she was slightly surprised when he sat up, taking her with him.

"That's no way to live..." Bruce mumbled out with a frown.

Natasha let her eyes soften slightly when he placed both hands on either side of her face. She remembered when Steve told her the exact same thing about something else she had said, about the truth being a matter of circumstances. She searched Bruce's eyes for a few more moments before she replied with a slightly varied version of the same response, "It's how I've always lived and it's kept me alive so far."

"Maybe you should think about a change of professions," Bruce offered up with a dry smile, "like the detonator on a bomb squad."

And he surprised her further when his lips found her neck before she could respond to the joke. That flutter turned to the tiniest tingling and she closed her eyes against the feeling of the unshaven beginning of scruff on his face as it left a slightly rougher sensation to go along with the gentleness.

It was one of the first moments that she actually felt like she _was_ capable of feeling more for someone, or maybe it was just the first time that she wanted to, but Natasha couldn't exactly be certain when she had never known the difference in the first place. He stopped as suddenly as he had started it, leaving warm puffs of his breath on her neck and a feeling of slight confusion within her until he spoke, "Is this...alright?"

That was the last thing she expected, though from Bruce, perhaps she should have seen the question coming given their positions. He couldn't go too far and she had no interest in going too far. She supposed it made sense that while they tested where that line actually lay, that he might actually ask if they had crossed it on her end. Unlike him, she didn't exactly have any physical or emotional tells for where the line stood, not when she didn't allow it to show. "It's fine...you're fine," she assured him. It was then that she blinked a few times and let her confused words out before she could stop them, "You're...fine?"

He released a nervous little chuckle, "For now...just don't move the wrong way or this might become a situation."

Natasha laughed in an instant before his lips closed on her neck again, then her laugh turned to a breathy little sigh that sort of surprised both of them, and also brought on a bit more speed to his heartbeat. Thankfully it wasn't _too_ fast, and while Bruce continued what he was doing she closed her eyes to let herself try to feel more, or at least feel more without her mind defensively shutting down her ability to.

Then she remembered _why_ she had still been awake when Bruce came into her room, and she remembered seconds too late, because her laptop on the end table beeped and lit up.

Natasha's eyes shot open as she glanced to her side of the bed and stared in bewilderment as Laura Barton's face popped up over the pre-planned video call. She didn't hesitate to snatch up her pillow, shove it over Bruce's face, then push him down on the bed as Laura raised both eyebrows up over the video screen. She cleared her throat as her partner's wife gave her a rather mischievous little grin, "Did I just see you shove a man down on your bed and hide him with a pillow?"

"Uh..." and she was almost positive that Bruce had just snorted out a laugh under the pillow. The continuous shaking of his shoulders proved that he was laughing, probably more at what she had just done to him and her sudden speechlessness than anything else. "I uh...I may have forgotten that we were supposed to talk."

Laura didn't seem remotely bothered. "No judgement here, besides, you _really_ looked like you were enjoying yourself."

Natasha felt Bruce shake with further laughter and she was almost positive that for the first time in history, she felt _real_ heat rise in her cheeks rather than color manufactured for show. All she could think was that Bruce probably wouldn't be laughing if he knew whose wife she was actually speaking to.

"Nat, are you _blushing_?" came Laura's teasing comment.

She probably was, if only because Laura was the last person she wanted to have see her in a position quite like this. And the comment of her blush only made this worse, so much so that Bruce's laughter actually came through the pillow and Natasha quickly coughed, "I uh—I'll call you back. And Laura? This never happened..."

"Uh-huh..." was Laura's entertained parting comment as Natasha reached over and closed the laptop as fast as she could.

She rolled onto her back on her side of the pillow and watched as Bruce pulled the pillow up slightly and peeked his head out from underneath it, "Is it safe to exit the pillow?"

Natasha snorted out a laugh in an instant, "Trust me, you didn't want her to know who you were." And at least she was almost positive Laura hadn't actually been able to see Bruce's face given that it had been buried on the other side of her neck when the video call had sprung to life.

"Friend of yours?" Bruce questioned as he handed the pillow back to her.

"Yeah, sort of..." she scrunched her nose up a little, "it's a bit of a long story. It's also not really my story to tell."

Bruce gave a small nod, "Fair enough." And then he got a rather sly twinkle in his eyes that she had never seen with him before, "Did you really blush?"

Natasha smacked him with the pillow in an instant, "Shut up, Bruce."

* * *

 _Nova Scotia, Canada._

The feeling that they were being watched and followed was beginning to fray on Natasha's nerves, though neither Bruce nor Clint seemed to notice the way she was becoming antsy. The building wasn't exactly large and they had entered from the roof onto the second floor. It only took them several minutes without ever running into someone before they came into a second floor office that looked down into a large lab.

"It's quiet," Clint commented, and she didn't disagree, in fact... "too quiet."

That was exactly what she had been thinking and she let out a sigh, "They knew we were coming."

"Think there's anything to find?" came Bruce's question.

"There's always something," Clint answered without a second thought, "nobody ever manages to clean up everything. No matter how hard you try, something always gets left behind."

Bruce seemed like he thought the statement was plausible, though Natasha wasn't entirely certain that she agreed, right now it felt like something was hiding in plain sight that none of them could find.

"Nat, you okay?"

She only realized she had been staring behind them when Clint's question broke through her concentration and she turned to look back at both him and Bruce. "Yeah," she mumbled out as she shifted her gaze down to the lab.

"I haven't just been paranoid this whole time, have I?" Clint questioned next, "you feel it too?"

"Yeah," she agreed again. "It doesn't look like anybody is here, but—"

"But someone is..." Clint finished.

Natasha should have known he had noticed it too but Bruce's comment was the most surprising, "And here I thought it was just me being paranoid."

Clint gave a meager little shrug in response, "Not paranoia if they're really after you, Doc."

Natasha figured it was the right thing to say because Bruce at least gave a halfhearted smile in response to the comment. She felt the air shift just slightly behind them and she narrowed her eyes, letting her ears listen rather than trying to force her eyes to see.

 _Then_ she heard it. She reached out at the same time that Clint turned around abruptly and she caught the knife midair a mere fraction of an inch from her partner's chest. Looking around there was _nobody_ in the room with them to throw it and Clint and Bruce were doing much the same. All three of them stood defensively in silence and Natasha was grateful for that because it helped her to listen. She used her ears rather than her eyes, but it was instead what she _felt_ , that changed.

Natasha felt the movement beside her and turned in an instant with her hands up defensively—towards absolutely nothing and no one. _That_ caused a reaction that she was used to from Bruce rather than herself and she felt her heart rate kick up drastically. Something had just been there. She was sure of it.

And then two hands became visible in the air as they reached out and grasped her uniform before she could actually comprehend it. The gasp of surprise left her lips just as her feet left the ground and she hit the desk several feet away and dropped to her side on the ground.

"Nat!"—"Natasha!"

It took half a second to suck the air back into her lungs from getting the wind knocked out of her when her back hit the desk and she shook her head as she got back to her feet. That was when she saw the man, and it _was_ a man. It wasn't in time to say anything or to stop him as those same hands reached out, grasped Clint's uniform much like he had hers, then hauled her partner straight through the glass and into the lab one floor down. The man was once again gone from her vision, something that should _not_ be possible, but she never _heard_ anything to show he moved and she rushed the spot he had been in.

The idea turned out to be a good one because she made contact with _something_ as both she and whoever she couldn't see went down to the ground.

"Bruce! Go check on Clint!" she ordered quickly. The harried look on the scientist's face told her he was having one _hell_ of a time keeping the Other Guy in check and getting him out of the room seemed like the best option, " _now_!"

Bruce didn't look thrilled with being given the order but she saw him open the door and rush down the stairs towards the lab as she held down whoever or whatever was beneath her.

"You're good," his voice came out smooth as silk when tanned skin, brown eyes, and dark brown and spiky hair came into view below her. He was young, barely more than a kid. "You knew where I was any time I moved, nobody's ever seen me before when they _couldn't_ see me. Color me impressed. You must be the Black Widow."

"Must be," she answered with the barest shrug, "and you must be enhanced."

He snickered as he retorted in kind, "Must be, but then again so are you, otherwise your partner would be dead."

Natasha narrowed her eyes slightly at the comment but she didn't give any sort of reply to the statement to deny it. Instead she responded differently, "They made you to fight me?"

"You're giving yourself far too much credit. However, HYDRA did deem me the best chance of taking care of you since you caused quite a few problems for them," he commented with a rather sassy smirk as he validated her statement partly with that one word. "You really pissed them off when you leaked everything to the world, Widow."

"Where's Strucker and the scepter?" she questioned next and watched as the smirk never left his lips.

"If I tell you that, I'm already dead," was his only reply.

She only reacted enough to give him a devilish little smile, "And if you don't, I'll make you wish that you were."

"I wish you the best of luck with that, Widow, I truly do," he answered without a care, "but I prefer to live." She never saw his fist because it wasn't visible, not until it picked up speed and slammed into her jaw. "I also prefer to keep all my fingers on my hand, as you can see, or rather um...feel."

Natasha fell to the side instantly from the blow and by the time she reached out to where she had been holding him down, he was gone. All her senses went on high alert in an instant and she listened intently. Bruce's worries from the night before were hitting her like a sack of bricks right now and she cursed herself for saying 'I'll be fine'. Nothing quite like this had been in the new SHIELD's 'Index' and she stood patiently as her eyes skirted the room in failure. He always became visible at the last second, but waiting for the last second _would_ get her killed and she needed another way to find him before that happened.

Once again there was nothing she could do when she saw the movement too late and a rather high and well-placed boot hit her square in the chest and back into the same desk from before, except this time it broke into pieces beneath her and she hissed immediately as a splintered piece of wood dug into her waist. This time she heard his steps and she gripped a piece of wood from the desk in her hand, swung it around, and felt and heard the success when she made contact. She slammed it forward again, and again, and again, hearing the crack of a rib before something, which she assumed was his hand, gripped her wrist and stopped her next swing. Then it happened again. She couldn't see what was about to happen until she saw his boot as it stepped on the splintered wood in her side and drove it deeper.

The worst part about not knowing something painful was about to happen was that it made it a hell of a lot more difficult to try to hold in a reaction. This was one of the times where it wasn't quite possible and some strangled gasp of agony, as that foot continued to dig it in deeper, escaped her lips against her will.

Natasha gripped his foot in an instant, twisted it, and dragged him to the floor with her before she climbed on top of him once again and struggled to find his arms to pin him down. She _could_ have just shot him and ended it, but that really didn't get her any answers and she forced herself to attempt to overpower him and keep him down. Hell, she could shoot blindly and wind up killing him even if she were only attempting to wound him. It was a failure once more to keep him down and another piece of the desk met her temple with enough force to blacken the edges of her vision as she fell back onto her back.

"This is...such a disappointment," came his mocking tone from a few feet away. She was done with the game and she pulled her gun and shot in the direction his voice came from. The bullet never met a target and she realized it was just bait when his foot kicked her hand and sent the gun sailing away. "Don't get me wrong," and she dove towards the voice in yet another useless endeavor as she met air. Her frustration with all of it was making her ability to find him get worse and worse, and she barely stayed on her feet when she missed taking him down. "You're doing a halfway decent job," came his voice from behind her. She swung again as she turned and again she met air. "But you're not as good as the stories say you are," he was taunting her and she had let it work as she went for the voice more quickly that time. Unfortunately all it got her, she assumed, was his knee to her gut before her head was reamed into the wall and she went to the floor in a heap again. "You're actually rather pathetic compared to what I was expecting," came his next taunt when she laid there and played possum. "I expected _so_ much more from the legendary Black Widow. Now I'll get to say that _I_ killed the Black Widow, and all I got was _one_ cracked rib."

Given that his voice continuously got closer as he slowly drawled out the last words, playing possum was an effective plan, and then she heard as his foot meet the floor by her face. He seemed to be debating whether or not she was really down for the count and she could hear the uncertainty once she listened more carefully and heard his breathing.

Then he tested it by continuing to taunt her, to attempt to derail her using a new method, it was just too bad for him he wasn't the first to try it and she was going to make damn sure she lived through it to make sure he wasn't the last, "Once I kill you, I'll go down there, I'll kill your two friends." It seemed nobody told the idiot what The Hulk looked like when he wasn't big and green, otherwise he certainly wouldn't be suggesting he could kill the scientist below. Even so, the words _did_ leave the same pit they always did when someone threatened her partner's life, and now Bruce's as well, but she stayed still and let him believe she was unconscious. "I'll kill the one with the glasses quick, he seemed pretty pathetic, not a whole lot of fun...but the guy with the bow? He looked like he might show me at least a fraction of the good time you have." It was sort of like twisting a knife in her chest and she had to force herself not to react.

It worked like a charm because she felt his breath on her face. Natasha snapped her eyes open, reached up, and gripped her hand around his neck like a vice because he was idiotic enough to think he didn't need to be invisible. She drove the knife that she pulled from her boot into his chest, just opposite his heart, while ignoring the two kicks to her ribs. "You want to see what happens when I stop holding back?" she growled out, "you got it." She gripped the knife tighter, drove him backwards with more strength than truly necessary until she was at a full-force run with him stuck for the ride, and then _both_ of them flew through the window beside the one that Clint had been thrown through before.

He landed on his back on the cement floor of the lab and she was sent rolling a few feet away from him. There was a ringing in her ears and she supposed that was probably from the rough landing even with her human meat shield and she sucked in a few shaky breaths from the throbbing throughout her body, but if she felt this terrible at least that meant he had to feel worse.

"Natasha!"

She barely heard her name and she had to blink a few times before she realized it was being said in warning tone of voice, _Bruce's_ voice. She rolled to the side in an instant and not a second too late as the blade of a bloodied knife, _her_ knife, hit the cement by her head and actually sparked. She swung out and he was gone from her sight again, rebuilding the earlier frustration. The son of a bitch seemed to have the ability to bring objects into his invisibility with him. She twisted to the side again as the knife again hit the cement of the floor a centimeter from her nose.

Then it was like he gave up the endeavor. No further attempts to embed a blade into her head came and she sat up, locking eyes with Bruce's confused gaze before both of them began to search the lab.

And then her eyes finally caught sight of the actual differences between where he stood and everything else in the lab. It was barely there. Just the occasional tiny flicker, almost like a ripple in the air, but it was enough to give her the edge she needed. She also saw him move just above where Clint was leaning against a desk with Bruce just beside him. "Clint!"

Bruce reacted to her call before her partner needed to. It was the last thing either she nor Clint expected as Bruce gripped the attacker's hand when the knife swung towards Clint, yanked it quickly behind his back, then got his foot around the other man's unseen leg as he dragged him to the floor.

"Right now I'm really glad she showed you that move..." Clint mumbled out.

Natasha was too if she was being honest.

"Don't get too excited...he's gone again," Bruce told them.

She already knew that and she watched the flicker of difference show itself before she ran towards Bruce and Clint at full-speed, faster than Bruce thought she could move it would seem, because he looked shellshocked. She made impact with her invisible target just next to Bruce, with enough force that she had to have knocked the wind out of him because she had knocked it out of herself as they crashed through yet another desk. The computer screen that had been on the desk crashed over her head in an instant and she was forced off of him again.

He may have been enhanced to be invisible at most times, but he was also one resilient son of a bitch because she had knocked men out with a lot less effort. She grabbed his wrist as the knife came towards her and slammed her boot into his ribs once, twice, and then three times. Natasha narrowed her eyes in an instant as she clenched the fist of her free hand, swung upward, and met his jaw with enough force to send him off of her and a few feet back.

It was proven that he wasn't just enhanced with the invisibility when he got right back up from a blow that she hadn't held back on. She hadn't expected the speedy recovery and she missed the flicker as he pounced. The back of her shoulders hit the concrete, the back of her head smacked down as well, and she couldn't avoid the knife that soared towards her.

But she also didn't have to when he went rigid in posture, knife frozen just a breath away from her eye.

The familiar sound of one _very_ angry Hulk reached her ears at the exact same moment and she watched her attacker's face come into view as he whipped his head around with enough speed, and _then_ she understood how she could never see him until it was almost too late. She snatched the knife from his hand just as she forced her foot into his midsection and purposely sent him a few steps backwards, right into the volatile swing of a rather large and green fist. He flew across the lab from the impact in an instant and she grimaced a little as she watched the way he sailed through and destroyed several desks and computers before she heard the sound of a body careening into a wall.

Natasha could see Clint's stunned expression from where he was leaning against a desk with his arm wrapped around his ribs. Clearly she wasn't the only one not expecting to see the Big Guy, but given that he had probably just saved her life, she certainly wasn't about to complain. Unfortunately, he was also still as pissed off as possible and before she could even attempt to stop him, he trampled his way through a wall and went on his merry destructive way.

"Steve and Thor are inside now and almost to you two, but Romanoff, I've got one _very_ pissed off Hulk out here who _really_ needs a lullaby," came Tony's voice over her comms just seconds later.

She watched as Clint moved next to her, his fingertips pressed against the throbbing flesh around the splintered wood embedded in her waist and she sucked in another shaky breath before she responded to the billionaire, "I'll take care of him, just stay out of his path."

"Nat—"

Clint silenced his objection the moment she shot him a warning look and got back on her feet. She made her way without faltering through the Hulk-sized hole in the wall, passing Steve and Thor without a word as she followed the sounds of enraged growling. She could see him the instant she was outside and she paused when Tony flew up beside her in his suit. Both of them watched as he uprooted one tree and proceeded to swing it into a few others in the area.

"He's more pissed off than usual," came Tony's offhanded but knowing comment. She knew his gaze had traveled to the slow trickle of blood seeping out from around the wound in her side, "and...I guess I can see why."

And this thing between them might have become a problem for entirely different reasons inside that lab, reasons that she had never once thought to actually calculate before. She watched Tony turn his comm off and she reciprocated by doing the same.

"This could be a huge problem..." Tony stated the very same fact that had just gone through her own mind.

Natasha gave the smallest inclination of her head without sparing a thought to disagree. Instead, she said the only thing she could, she told him the truth, "This was never supposed to happen. I knew Bruce's feelings might cause setbacks, but—" She could feel the way Tony studied her as his mask rose to show his face and she watched the tantrum that The Hulk continued to throw through flurries of snow. "But I never once factored in the possibility that the Big Guy would..."

"Feel the same as Bruce?" Tony attempted to finish.

She shook her head at that. "It's not the same, not exactly..." she explained, "what he feels, I think it's—it's different."

"Different how, exactly?" came Tony's curiosity in an instant.

And that was an answer that she didn't have. "I don't know," she admitted, "not yet."

"But you're sure it's different?"

"Well he hasn't tried to kiss me yet, so yeah, I'm pretty sure," she quipped with the tiniest smirk.

It seemed effective because Tony at least looked half-amused and half-disturbed as he shook his head, "That's a whole new Fifty Shades of Green that even _I_ don't want to think about, Natasha."

Natasha snorted out a half-laugh as she rolled her eyes.

"Giving him a chance to let out some of that anger?" was Tony's next question.

"There's nothing else around for at least ten miles in any direction, and since he doesn't seem to be taking a further stroll, might as well let him let off steam," she explained, "besides...this isn't the first time where I'm alive because of him when I should be dead."

Tony's nod was brief and then she heard the mask raise and turned to watch his eyes travel to the wound once again. He was wise enough not to comment that she might not actually be up for a lullaby and instead he said something slightly more surprising, "And do you think only Bruce's feelings are going to cause setbacks?"

She kept her expression neutral now as she continued to watch The Hulk swing the tree around and repeatedly slam it into the ground. "We better hope so," she murmured.

"That's not an answer. Not a good one anyways," Tony told her, "so do you want to explain it to me?"

"The day that happens is probably the day I get myself on the wrong end of things," Natasha admitted.

"You really believe that? You really believe that if your feelings get in the way that you'll get killed?" and he actually sounded surprised to hear it.

Once more she inclined her head to the side slightly, "I know it, besides, we've had this conversation before."

"About the one you didn't love back, the one who died?" Tony asked.

"His feelings got in the way."

The expression on his face actually softened and neither of them said a word again as she kept her arms crossed for a few more seconds. "How bad does it suck?" came the next surprising question from him.

"What, exactly?"

"Trying to keep everything bottled up the way you do, how bad does it suck?"

Natasha was fairly certain he meant that in a serious way and she hadn't actually thought of it until now. The question actually had her thinking about it and she tilted her head sideways just slightly before she unfolded her arms and began walking towards The Hulk. "It never used to be a problem before," she answered just before she was out of hearing range.

She wondered how much that answer surprised Tony as she crouched down and slowly inched her way up a snow pile a few feet away from The Hulk. The movement and her posture left her more than a little uncomfortable with the wood still embedded in her and she ignored it vehemently as she crouched atop the snow pile and gave her usual greeting while pulling her glove off, "Hey, Big Guy." He turned in an instant towards her, tree mid-swing and frozen in the air. A rather hostile pair of brown eyes landed on her form and she barely manage not to flinch when he rumbled out a growl in her direction. It tugged on her already frayed nerves, though she was certain she managed to hide that from her expression. "Sun's getting real low," she offered up as she raised her hand up slowly.

He didn't budge from where he stood, staring back at her as he huffed out a few more enraged breaths. Perhaps she didn't need to have her nerves showing on her face for him to know they were there. The Big Guy was a lot more perceptive than people gave him credit for and she understood now why he normally hesitated to accept her gesture when she tried the lullaby. He knew she was nervous and he would give her the time she needed to try and relax.

The realization succeeded in calming her nerves and she gave him a small smile. as he rumbled the ground a bit and stepped towards her. She turned her palm up towards him and watched as he glanced at it before she spoke, "You take your time for _me_ , not for you, don't you Big Guy?" she questioned with a tilt of her head. He answered with nothing but his own self-satisfied and angry little smirk before he hovered the top of his hand down over her palm. "Thank you," she tacked on as she slowly moved her hand over to his arm and let her fingertips slowly trace there way down to his hand. "Maybe one day I'll get used to the fact the people seem to care about me," she mentioned and she locked eyes with him as he huffed out another breath. His eyes remained locked onto her face and she gave the barest semblance of a shrug, "It's hard though...and I think you get that."

There was a small nod, barely existent from him as her fingertips finally reached his own giant ones. "I care," she told him. He didn't exactly look like he believed her and she supposed she understood _that_ as well. "It might be in my own way but I do care, Big Guy, so it might take some time for me to figure out how to show it."

His eyes narrowed just slightly with what she thought was further disbelief before he snorted, growled, and stumbled a few feet back with his hands on his head. She supposed she understood his hesitation to believe her and she took that with a grain of salt as she waited and pulled her glove back on. It was hard to have faith that someone cared when all you ever saw was the opposite. Once he was no longer green and he was once more Bruce Banner, pale, shaking and shivering in the snow, she made her way over towards him. She listened to Tony flying their way as he handed over a shirt and a blanket and she pulled Bruce up to her in a sitting position, pulling his arms into the shirt before sliding it over his head. "You keeping shirts and blankets in your suit now, Stark?" she questioned as she took the blanket next and tugged it around Bruce, leaving her fingers curled around the edges of it at his chest.

"Hilarious," Tony retorted, "but I flew back to the jet and got them. I should make a 'Bruce's spare clothes' compartment though, now that you mention it."

"You okay, Bruce?" she asked next, ignoring Tony completely.

"Will be..." he mumbled out.

She listened to the same thing Tony did over the comms from Steve, "Barton's fine. Thor's got our invisible man tied up and Maria says SHIELD will pick him up. According to Barton, there's nothing else here aside from the surprise guest."

"Peachy, so we walked into an ambush," Tony commented to her dryly and she watched him roll his eyes.

Natasha mulled it over in her head just a little. She had initially assumed they made him the way he was. "Not an ambush..." she offered up with surprise, "a test."

"Test?" Tony questioned.

"What he said to me, that HYDRA thought he was the best possible way of taking me out. They were testing him out and I was the test."

Then Bruce's words met her ears and gave her pause, "He said you were enhanced..." Her eyes shifted down to his baffled and pained brown eyes and she watched from the corner of her eye as Tony not-so-casually looked in a different direction. Bruce noticed it too.

"You heard that," she stated with a frown. Her comm hadn't been on and she had hoped it hadn't been said loud enough, but that hope died now.

"You didn't deny it."

"No, I didn't."

And Bruce's next statement was pointed towards his best friend, "And you knew."

"Yeah, I knew," Tony admitted.

"Why didn't I know?" Bruce wondered aloud.

She released the tiniest sigh before she answered, "Because I don't talk about it and 'Hey, when I was a teenager, the Russian's injected me with a serum to enhance my natural abilities' doesn't exactly come up in casual conversation."

For a second she thought he was angry that she had withheld it and then she realized that his ruffled brow was because his eyes were locked onto the wound at her waist. She had forgotten about it and she let her own eyes travel down to it as well. _Then_ she remembered that it hurt like a bitch. "It's fine," she assured him.

"That's not _fine..._ Natasha, that's _really_ bad," Bruce grumbled out as he pressed shaky fingers to the skin around the wood. "It needs to come out."

"Might want to wait til we're somewhere else for that, I left it in so I wouldn't bleed to death," she informed him.

Bruce looked even more uncomfortable with it now that she said the comment out loud, though he had to know she was right because he gave a slow nod. "Alright...then we better get to the jet because that's...that's an infection just waiting to happen."

She gave him a small smile at that and was a little grateful that he at least smiled back.

Tony, of course, had to ruin the moment, "It's actually nauseating how you two do that weird little stare and smile thing. At least have the courtesy to do it when I'm not around so I don't barf."

* * *

Sleep came on and off for Natasha that night. The bright side was that between the stitches in her side, the concussion and the bruised ribs, when she did sleep it was typically dreamless. Occasionally, the pure darkness of nothing was worse than the nightmares themselves, because she could never be sure what lurked behind the shadows. In her opinion, something had always been better than absolutely nothing and she found this to be one of those times as she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. She listened as the door to her quarters opened, then closed, and was followed by Bruce's footsteps.

He hadn't even given the pretense of bothering to knock tonight and she didn't entirely mind it. She listened as he padded down the hall and stepped inside her bedroom and she didn't bother with the pretense of being asleep as she turned her gaze to him. He had that look on his face like there was something he had been wanting to say, something that he had been holding back from her, and she slowly sat up as she watched him inch himself onto the edge of her bed right beside her.

"Maria said SHIELD checked in. Guys name was Yuri...Yuka—something that I can't pronounce," and it made her smile a little. "Guy was sort of an Enhanced 'lab accident gone wrong'. HYDRA was messing with the SHIELD cloaking technology in the same lab as the Enhanced technology...and...Yuri just sort of happened by accident."

"One bitch of an accident," she commented with a sigh.

"How's your side?" he questioned softly and she kept her eyes locked with his.

"It's fine, but that's not what you came here to ask me," Natasha insisted, "you want to ask why I told Tony I was Enhanced but not you."

Bruce's face told her she was right even when his words said otherwise, "You're allowed to have things you don't want to talk about."

"I know," she agreed with a small shrug. "Do you remember that first night where we slept together?" and the way he blushed made her smile appear in an instant, "and I'm talking about the one where you texted me in the middle of the night and I decided to sleep in your bed, not the one where you had that nightmare in India or I had the flu."

"I uh...yeah, I remember. What about it?"

"There was a reason why I avoided you up until Tony's party, the one where Constantin tried to splatter me on the pavement." Bruce's eyebrows were ruffled so much that they were almost pushed together and she released a sigh before she continued, "I woke up because you put your arm around me and got...quite close."

The poor guy looked thoroughly embarrassed to learn he had done that _before_ anything between them actually started. "I—you—you never said anything," he stumbled out.

"I didn't avoid you for cuddling me in your sleep, Bruce," she assured him with an amused shake of her head, "I avoided you because—because it felt...nice. I avoided you because I liked it." Bruce looked more than stunned, he looked absolutely shellshocked at the newfound knowledge and she chuckled a little, "Don't look so surprised. After all, the next time you woke up with _me_ wrapped around you, and you kissed me senseless, so I'm sure that gave me away since I kissed you back."

That actually seemed to make him laugh a little and she smiled as he carefully eased himself over her to sit beside her, his shoulder pressed to hers as they leaned against the headboard. "Alright...so..."

"So, right after the kiss and run thing you did, that's when Tony came to talk to me," Natasha informed him. "I didn't intend to tell him, but it was the only way to convince him I was fine after—after going through the window with the Big Guy. I only told him so that he wouldn't worry you over being worried about me."

Bruce had that look of shame on his face all over again but she didn't need to question it because he voiced the reason for it, "I was worried about the Other Guy hurting you, but I hurt you more than he did...didn't I?"

He wasn't wrong and Natasha glanced away. Before now she never would have admitted that somebody had hurt her in an emotional sense, but the honest answer left her lips of its own volition, "Yes." He looked even more ashamed when she turned to look back at him and she reached up and gripped his chin gently in her fingertips, "But you've also said things to me that made me believe you really never meant to hurt me."

"What do you mean?" came his uncertain question.

"No offense, but...men don't just say things like you do," she told him, "no one ever told me that I made their heart beat faster. They certainly never told me I was breathtaking...or that I enchanted them."

"Well, you do make my heart beat faster, you _are_ breathtaking, and you do enchant me..."

It made her smile again and she carefully shifted her leg over him much like the night before. She grasped his face between both palms of her hands and she waited out his racing heart. Once it slowed down, Bruce's hands encircled her waist and she slowly moved to capture his lips with her own. It was when she leaned in closer that her shirt rode up above where his hands rested and his fingertips came to rest on the bare skin of her waistline. Then he gently tugged her even closer. Once again they were testing the limits of where the line was drawn and his mouth moved from her lips, to her chin, then to her neck.

It left that same fluttering feeling from the night before that left her curious and fascinated, then his mouth met her collarbone with just the barest graze of teeth, and a shaky breath left her lips that sent her mind into a world of absolute vacancy. "Bruce—" but she didn't even have to bother to finish saying his name because he seemed to have noticed. In an instant his mouth left her skin, his hands left her waist and he had a concerned look as she sat there with her eyes on the wall.

"Natasha...?" The empty feeling didn't leave right away and she shifted her eyes to meet Bruce's alarmed expression as she removed herself off of him and then the bed without a word. He got to his feet and she noted the fact that he was keeping his distance, though she could see the way he was just barely restraining himself from reaching out to her. "You—Natasha, you're shaking..." and his voice sounded uneasy and fearful, "I'm so sorry...I crossed the line..." He had crossed the line to her comfort zone, sure, but it hadn't been his fault at all. She watched as his hand reached towards her, then he thought twice about it and quickly yanked it back to his side while he fidgeted with his fingers, "You lied...didn't you? You said it wasn't about something bad that happened to you, but—"

"It's not, Bruce..."

"Natasha you're _visibly_ shaking—"

"There was a moment, just for a second..." she told him quietly as she cut him off and took another step back, "that I wanted to kill you..." It was effective in the sense that he was absolutely speechless as he stared at her, frozen in place while she rubbed furiously at her face. "This isn't your fault, Bruce, it's mine." It was her fault because she had never imagined that they would find where her mind drew the line before they found where his did.

Bruce opened and then pursed his lips closed several times before he seemed to find the question he wanted to ask. Still, even before he asked it, his eyes never once bore a look that said he despised her for what she had just told him. But the question...the question rattled her, "Did they do this to you?"

"I don't know. I don't know if it was part of Red Room's conditioning if that's what you're asking," she told him with complete honesty as she rubbed at her eyes, "it's possible. It's also possible that maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm just that far gone, Bruce."

"I don't believe that, I don't believe that it's you. But after the few things you've told me, and the few I've seen, it sounds like this is something they would do to you..." and she supposed it was accurate enough, but there was no way to know, not unless it was hidden somewhere in her massive file.

She nodded her head a little and he stepped closer, albeit a bit warily as he studied her for any sense that he should stop. She let him and she didn't stop him when his hand rested carefully and gently on her cheek, thumb softly grazing her chin just below her lip. "It's never happened before. But I've never actually tried to be with someone just for the sake of being with them. Until now."

"So...when you said that you couldn't feel more, that _more_ meant nothing to you...you actually meant that you—that they..."

"That it's possible they programmed me to be incapable of more," Natasha finished for him, "I just never cared before to wonder." She pulled his hand off her face and pushed it back to his side as she backstepped again, "I should have never started this with you."

"Natasha..."

"No, no. This—this isn't fair to you," she insisted quickly, "the longer this goes on the more you'll start to feel for me, but Bruce, I can never feel the same. Maybe right now, in the beginning, what little I can manage seems okay, but eventually—eventually it's not going to be enough."

"It's enough," Bruce's attempt to reassure her did nothing to help.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, "It's not, you just can't see it yet."

"Natasha, it's enough," he told her again with more certainty. "I know it's enough because I—because..." She snapped her eyes open and stared at him but the relief that flooded through her was almost pathetic when he finally finished the statement, "I care about you. You've never pushed me more than I could handle," he reminded her, "you know where my line is and now—now I know where yours is."

"What happens the day that I push too far?" she dared to ask, "will you still believe that what little I have to offer is enough?"

"Yes."

Natasha released a sigh before she moved back to the bed and sat down. "I really hope you're right," she added softly, "because if you're wrong I'm going to be really pissed."

"I'm right," came his reassurance as he moved to sit back beside her. He draped his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head on his chest as she closed her eyes. "And you already broke part of their conditioning, Natasha. You can break this, too."

If it was actually their conditioning. "How?"

"Practice?"

That actually made her smile just a little, "You're a lot more optimistic than I am right now..."

"Sort of depressing when you call a perpetual pessimist more optimistic than you," he quipped with a wry little smile.

It was another effective comment because it made her smile just a little more, "It really is, isn't it?"

Bruce rested his head on top of her hair and she actually felt herself relax again for the first time in the past several minutes. "You keep believing that I'm more than what I think I am. You said you trust me, so do you trust me when I say we can figure this all out?"

Truth be told, she wasn't sure if she was willing to take that plunge. "I don't know..." she admitted.

"You'll have to let me know when you do then..." Bruce told her, "because it's the only way I can help you."

It felt like he was asking for a hell of a lot more than for her to have just a little faith, but at least admitting she wasn't sure hadn't caused him to leave, so she nodded her head, "I'll let you know."

And at least he never said ' _I told you so_ ' about her fighting the enhanced. At least he hadn't called her out for saying she would be fine when she very nearly got a knife through her eye and into her brain. At least he didn't hate her inability to feel more. But now he seemed to have that same false idea that she had once had about him.

Bruce believed he could fix her and she almost found herself believing he could.

Almost.

* * *

 **Alrighty guys. The next chapter is the final one. Remember that's where we'll be going into AoU, but remember, it's not the end.**

 **There will be an Epilogue after the final chapter, which will actually be a sneak peak into the sequel which has been titled 'In Ruins'.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note** : The final chapter is here with only the sneak peek epilogue remaining. The quote for this chapter is from the song '21 Guns' by Green Day and seemed fitting given the title of the sequel. These are just small moments, the first being just before the mission of **AoU** and then the others will be set during the movie. Some are revamped scenes from the movie itself with added dialogue, others take place in parts that we didn't actually have. But, without any further delay...

 **Chapter 29** :

" _Nothing's ever built to last.  
You're in ruins."_

One week.

That was all the time it took for Natasha to recover. It was same amount of time it took for her to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could trust Bruce's words. It was the amount of time it took for her to decide that she did want to be more. She did want to feel more. She did want to _have_ more.

She wanted to believe that with time, with Bruce, maybe she was capable of having all of those. Maybe after ten years she actually deserved to have all of those. It still felt like an awful lot of faith to stake in another person and an awful lot more to stake in herself. Maybewhen they finally had the scepter, and they put at least one of their many problems to rest, maybe then she could make a decision about what to do.

Natasha couldn't let herself push for more until she closed the chapter on the mission. She couldn't just leave it unfinished. Fortunately, thanks to a call from one of the few SHIELD agents she still trusted, it might just be finished sooner rather than later. Melinda May had called Natasha personally, gave her everything they had found about HYDRA's main base on one of her own missions in addition to the info that SHIELD had gotten out of that Yuri character.

There was a good chance they would find the scepter in tomorrow's mission. A good chance that she needed to come up with her decision in the next twenty-four hours.

And when she walked into the lab, hands hidden behind her back, the scientist glanced her way. His shirt was rumpled from spending far too much time with his billionaire best friend down there, his eyes carried their usual tiredness behind those wire-rimmed glasses, and yet he gave her the warmest smile when he looked at her. "You cut your hair," he commented thoughtfully.

"I did."

"It looks nice, reminds me a little of when we first met, just a little shorter this time."

She was pretty sure he was being honest and she inclined her head a little, "It's more practical from a tactical standpoint."

He gave a disbelieving sigh in reaction as he shook his head with an endearing little smile at her comment, "Of course it is."

Tony Stark was nowhere in sight and she thanked her lucky stars for small favors as she perched herself on the corner of Bruce's desk, held out the square box to him from behind her back, and gave him a smile of her own in return without saying a single word.

"That uh—that for me?" was his immediate question as he studied the box while removing his glasses with interest.

Natasha chuckled as she took the glasses from his hands, replaced them with the box, then safely tucked the glasses away into the front pocket of his shirt. "I wouldn't be giving it to you if it wasn't," she told him with the tiniest smirk.

"I suppose you wouldn't," he agreed with an amused glint in his eye. He peeled off the top with slow fascination and peered inside. The utter bafflement on his expression actually made her laugh as he pulled out the pair of large headphones and the MP4 player, and then the puzzled look shifted back to her own face.

"Noise canceling," she told him, "and it has a lot of Tchaikovsky on it. You play a lot of classical music when you need to relax...I just thought that might help after your next Code: Green." He was blinking at her rapidly and she frowned a bit, "It's stupid, isn't it?" Clint's kids always did tell her that she was a _terrible_ gift-giver, and so did Clint, as a matter of fact.

"No...no it's not stupid," Bruce assured her instantly, "it's really nice..."

She snorted out a laugh in an instant, "It's stupid."

"Thoughtful," he reworded with a chuckle.

"Stupid."

Bruce's smile only grew, "Thank you." His eyes lit up as though he suddenly remembered something and she quirked an eyebrow up as he placed the box down, yanked open the drawer of the desk, and began to rummage through it. It took a minute, but he came up with a sleek and simple little combat knife that he held out to her, sheathed in it's own tiny little leather case. "I...sort of forgot to give this to you for your birthday."

Now it was her turn to openly stare at the offered gift and she took it into her hand, twirling it between her fingers before weighing it on the palm of her hand. He looked a little entertained as he watched before she gave him another smile, "See? Now you really made mine look stupid. This would all be a lot easier if you liked knives."

The unexpected burst of laughter came from him in an instant but the laughter changed quickly and his face became bright red when an unexpected voice came from the lab's entrance, "Doctor Banner, did you not once tell me you were not attempting to court Lady Natasha?"

She felt her lips actually twitch as she attempted to hold back a laugh but Bruce's sheer embarrassment from the comment forced it out of her before she could stop it.

It was only more embarrassing to Bruce, and left her further amused, when Tony clapped Thor on the shoulder as he stepped around the Asgardian and entered the lab, "Oh, they are well passed the courting stages, my friend, well passed it."

"I see, so they have done the courting and are now in what Lady Jane calls the 'goo-goo eyes' stage?" came Thor's next question.

"Exactly!" Tony exclaimed, "you can't tell me the goo-goo eyes aren't just completely nauseating, Thor."

"Indeed I believe that to be true," Thor agreed, "many a times have I witnessed the burliest of men look like fools at the sight of a voluptuous female. In fact, true beauty is indeed one of the female warrior's most deadly weapons, am I not right Lady Natasha?"

She quirked an eyebrow up in an instant and instead of answering the question, she teased the God, "Are you trying to court me now, Thor?"

Tony's laugh was immediate when Thor stared at her with utter speechlessness in reaction to her joke. It was Bruce who, though he did look genuinely amused, released a sigh, "Finally couldn't just keep this to yourself anymore, could you, Tony?"

Natasha didn't entirely mind, but Thor's comment came before Tony's and made her smirk, "Do you not realize that you have not exactly been subtle in this courtship, Doctor Banner?"

Bruce's slightly agape mouth had Natasha chuckling and shaking her head.

"But I must say, you may use that to your advantage, but your wits and sheer strength are nearly equal to the Lady Sif of my realm," Thor told her next.

Natasha arched an eyebrow up slightly. The comment was unexpected and she knew that to Thor, that was probably the highest compliment to her skills that she would ever receive, "Oh, I...um—thank you."

"Courting might've gone easier if you'd used that line, Brucie buddy," Tony called out and Bruce sighed a little as he shook his head.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Natasha stated as she stood up and tucked the knife into the waist of her pants, "it was a hell of a kiss."

And Bruce felt the heat rise further up his cheeks when Thor belted out a laugh and Tony snickered.

* * *

Bruce wasn't sure what urged him to go up to Natasha at the bar during Tony's celebratory party. He certainly didn't know what urged him to flirt a little more openly than either of them had actually done before but the words left his lips before he could stop them, "How did a nice girl like you wind up working in a dump like this?"

There was half a second where Natasha gave him that blank little look, unblinking, and he could tell that she hadn't expected it. She had just poured herself whatever concoction she had just made in that shaker and she looked like she was debating how exactly she was supposed to respond. He couldn't blame her for it, not if he had surprised her even half as much as he surprised himself. "Fella done me wrong," came the raspy little answer as she poured a second glass and slid it his way.

Even Bruce knew his flirting wasn't the most top-notch thing, but he decided to keep it going anyways since she decided to roll with it, "You got lousy taste in men, kid." He really needed practice. He was making it much worse.

Yet Natasha gave the barest little shrug as she watched him from beneath her eyelashes. "He's not so bad. Well, he has a temper." Bruce felt his brow ruffle in an instant as she gave him this cheeky little look and continued on her little spiel of play-acting, "Deep down he's all fluff. Fact is, he's not like anybody I've ever known." That actually made the heat rise to his cheeks a little as he glanced down at his drink for a moment. "All my friends are fighters, then here comes this guy, spends his life avoiding the fight cause he knows he'll win."

He couldn't help but smile at that as he took a sip of his drink to hide it and gave a small nod, "Sounds amazing."

Natasha gave yet another little shrug before she switched gears, "He's also a huge dork." The red further made it's way from his neck to his face and he glanced down for a moment. She seemed to think she had made a mistake making the joke because she quickly followed it up, "Chicks dig that." He almost laughed out loud the moment she said it, reminding him of when she told him the same about his 'stammering in a woman's shower'. "So, what do you think? Should I fight this, or run with it?"

He froze for beat as the words hit him.

" _I don't need more, remember? If I decide I do, you'll be the first to know."_

" _Is there going to be a code word or a code phrase for that?"_

" _Sure, there can be a code phrase for that. If I decide I need or want more, I'll ask you if I should fight it or run with it."_

Natasha was looking at him expectantly with a slanted little smile and he answered without having to actually think it over, "R-run with it...r-right? Or did he...was he...? What did he do that was so wrong to you?" And he had stammered the entire thing out pathetically, though it only seemed to give her a rather pleased expression.

That slanted smile turned into a rather devious one as she leaned a little closer over the bar counter. "Not a damn thing. But never say never..." she told him as she lifted her drink and then of all things, she walked away and went up the stairs and back to the party.

All Bruce found himself doing was staring after her and smiling a little into his drink. He didn't get a whole lot of time to think on it when Steve strode up next to him with the strangest comment, "It's nice."

Had he just heard that entire thing? "Wha—what, what is?"

"You and Romanoff."

 _Shit_. Natasha's code phrase for saying she wanted more might have been given, but Bruce couldn't be certain that entailed telling anyone, not within half a minute of it being said anyways. Almost instantly he found himself trying to deny it, "No, we haven't—that wasn't—"

"It's okay," Steve assured him. Bruce found himself floundering for the uncomfortable moment as the other man continued speaking, "Nobody's breaking any by-laws. It's just, she's not the most...open person in the world." Probably the biggest understatement. "But with you she seems very relaxed." How much had Steve _actually_ noticed besides just this conversation? He was making quite a few assumptions based on a single one if he was only talking about what just transpired.

Even so, Bruce found himself continuing to pretend, at least until he had a chance to discuss this with Natasha, "No...Natasha—she, she just likes to flirt." And now he had just made it sound like that was all Natasha was. A flirt, nothing more, and he inwardly groaned at himself for it.

Steve seemed to see through it but what Bruce didn't expect was for the other man to give him a lecture of sorts. "I've seen her flirt, up close, this ain't that. Look...as maybe the world's leading authority on 'waiting too long'? Don't..." Steve's smile was honest and Bruce was surprised by the words, especially his next ones, "You both deserve a win."

Did he? Bruce wasn't as certain as Steve seemed to be, but then the comment _before_ that actually hit him as the supersoldier walked away. "W-what do you mean, 'up close'?" he mumbled out.

And he didn't get an answer.

* * *

In all honestly, other than Natasha admitting to wanting more, nothing had gone right since then. Ultron had taken on a life of it's own, something that he and Tony had only ever really chatted about had made itself a reality, but not in the way it should have, not in the way that had planned. They created a 'murder bot', so to speak, and nothing had been quite as bad as that disappointed little look Natasha had shot him when she realized he had been in on this with his best friend. Added to that was that Tony had actually been offended enough basically call him a dog that 'rolled over' when he called his friend out on what they had done wrong.

It was when they were all getting ready to leave for the salvage yard that Natasha came up to him, pulling her gloves onto her hands before she leaned against the wall and studied him. "He didn't mean that you know," she stated right off the bat.

Bruce frowned a little, "Who didn't mean what?"

"Tony, what he said to you in the lab, he didn't mean that."

"Oh." Her eyes were carefully guarded as she kept them glued to him and he sighed as he ran his hand haphazardly through his hair, "I should have never let him do it."

"We both know that you could have never stopped him, once Tony sets his mind on something, that's pretty much the end of the discussion," Natasha told him with slight reassurance. It did make him feel better for half a second, right up until she finished the thought, "What you shouldn't have done was _help_ him do it. Believe it or not but I'm not surprised that Tony built a murder bot while trying to create artificial intelligence. I'm surprised that _you_ did."

He hadn't _meant_ to do it, not the murder bot part of it anyways, but it happened and he couldn't exactly change that now. "Does this change things between us?" he dared to ask.

Natasha blinked several times at the question like she couldn't quite believe he had just asked it. It seemed to take her another moment before she realized he was serious and she stepped just a little closer. "No, Bruce, it doesn't change things between us."

Now he actually did feel just a little better and he blew out a breath of relief. Natasha had given him quite a few different looks over the last half a year, but disappointment had never once been one of them. He only felt a more decent amount better when she finally relented from disappointment and instead gave him a more seductive little smile. "So, did you enjoy that mouthful of my cleavage earlier?" she questioned.

Bruce choked on the very air he was breathing much like he had when it actually happened. She had yanked him over the bar and he hadn't _meant_ to quite literally get his face in her cleavage, but it happened nonetheless. It hadn't quite been funny at the time it was happening, but he could see why she thought so after the fact. Honestly, he just found it completely mortifying, especially now that she decided to tease him over the incident.

He didn't get a chance to comment as Clint strode past them a moment later, phone to his ear, and Bruce thought there was something familiar about the voice on the other end of it. The archer gave a half-wave as he headed towards the jet, "Yes, ma'am. You bet. Wouldn't dream of it..."

"That's the second time I've heard him 'ma'am' someone on the phone today," Bruce dared to comment. Natasha face took on one of amusement as she smirked. "Except he said he had no girlfriend when Dr. Cho mentioned it, then he told Steve he was talking to his girlfriend." Natasha was just giving him that look that said she was waiting for the question. "Who is he 'ma'am'ing?"

The chuckle left her lips in an instant, "His nonexistent girlfriend it would seem."

"You know who it is, don't you?" he wondered aloud.

She just gave another slanted little smile before she shrugged and walked away.

 _Where_ did he recognize that voice from?

* * *

"Guys? Is this a Code: Green?"

It was all just gunfire and jumbled voices that didn't come through clearly over his comm and it left Bruce with a worried feeling in his gut. He shouldn't do it if he wasn't sure but it was nagging him furiously until he finally hit the button to lower the ramp of the jet. Once it was down he slowly and warily made his way down, staring at the distance between himself and the salvage yard. It sounded like a war going on even from this far away and the feeling only continued to sink further.

And just as suddenly everything around him changed.

For what felt like forever, he saw his father beat his mother to death, over...and over...and over again until the anger was nearly ready to burst from his heart with it's rapid beats. And then suddenly it wasn't his father doing it, it was Bruce himself.

Then it all change, changed in an instant.

Laid out all around him were the bodies of the other Avengers. Thor's bloodied and mangled body was first and Bruce slowly and haggardly stepped around him as he looked at the carnage. Steve wasn't much further ahead, crushed into a crater in the ground, eyes wide open and dead to the world. Already his heart raced further and further as he took a few further steps. Then he saw Tony and Natasha standing over Clint's gruesome corpse. Tony's hand was resting on Natasha's shoulder in some form of comfort and Bruce covered his mouth with his hand when she looked up and met his eyes. They weren't green, they were red. Red and empty. Only a void remained where he had begun to see so much warmth.

And then she smiled.

It wasn't a smile Natasha had ever worn before, this one was filled with an overjoyed malice that sent his heart into his throat, and then she lifted a knife and dragged it across the throat of his best friend before she sauntered her way towards him.

"You—you did this?" the question gasped out of his mouth of its own volition.

A horrid little twinkle shone in her red eyes as she bit her lower lip and traced her index finger down his chest, "Only that last one. You did the rest, Big Guy. Broken can't fix broken, remember? If you can't beat the monster...why not join him?" Those big red eyes search his own, red and _not_ green, _not_ Natasha's eyes. Not her smile. Not her touch. "Are you mad at me? Am I not good enough anymore?"

It was like he had no control any longer as the hatred and anger filled him further. He could never hate her, and yet he did, and it was like watching from above as his fists, large and green, grasped her delicate body tightly between them.

And then she _looked_ like Natasha again. Wide and fearful green eyes filled with horror, sweat beading from her forehead, and a single word left her lips in a failed attempt to stop him, "Bruce...please..."

But all he could do was watch.

Watch as she broke. Watch as she shattered. Listen as she _screamed_.

All he could do was watch as he became his father, as he became everything he always told himself he wouldn't, as he became the monster his father always said he was.

* * *

Bruce thought he felt horrible, but the fact was, he didn't seem like he was the worst off of the group. Though he did think he seemed worse than Thor and Steve, that didn't entirely surprise him, but it was Natasha who looked the most lost. She wouldn't meet anyone's eye, not even Clint. Bruce had seen her distant, he had seen her hurt, but she took on a level that surpassed even the one from Samara. It had been a long time since he had seen Natasha stare at the walls but she was staring at them now.

The world had seen him for what he truly was, he had seen himself for what he truly was, and he had seen the things he was truly capable of in that dream. A dream where he wasn't _just_ a monster, he had turned Natasha into one as well, and then killed her for it.

Even as the jet landed he couldn't shake any of what had happened. He couldn't bring himself to go to Natasha as she sat unmoving until Clint draped her arm over his shoulders and half-dragged her off the jet and down the path towards the large house on a farm. The only thing that truly kicked him from the stupor was the moment the woman, whom Clint introduced as his wife, stepped in the foyer to give him a kiss. Bruce was stunned in an instant. He recognized the voice from Natasha's laptop in an instant, then he realized that was the _same_ voice he had heard over Clint's phone.

He almost missed the two kids who Clint now had a hold of because of that realization, almost, right up until that tiny and shy little voice rang out, "Did you bring Auntie Nat?"

Bruce realized that it wasn't just his own eyes that looked to Natasha in that moment. Clint looked a little wary along with Tony and Steve. The voice of the little girl seemed to awaken her and Bruce saw the way she looked a little startled as she looked up. She seemed to shake it off in less than a second as she took a few steps forward and spoke with a stronger voice than he thought she could manage, "Why don't you hug her and find out?"

It was a new side to her that briefly made him forget the horror as the redhead smiled one of the most genuine smiles he had ever seen and picked up the little girl who ran towards her, settling her on her hip and in her arms. The Natasha he was used to spent her time punching training dummies, sharpening knives, and cleaning her guns. He just hadn't put her into a more maternal column, he never imagined her in that way, at least not until he saw the way she looked at the little girl with unadulterated adoration. It was an expression that he never once saw on her before and a dark pit grew inside him the moment he did.

He could never give her a reason to look that way.

Bruce couldn't ever give her this one thing that she seemed to love so much.

Natasha shifted into an entirely new person before his eyes as she put Lila down, stepped in close, and placed a hand to the very pregnant belly of Clint's wife, "How's little Natasha, hm?"

"She's..." and he watched Natasha's face as she studied Laura's guilty one, "...Nathaniel."

There was the slight look of surprise in Natasha's eyes before she leaned over and put her face ridiculously close to the baby bump. "Traitor..." she grumbled out playfully.

It was clearly a side that nobody else on the team besides Clint thought existed within her and as Natasha stepped back towards the rest of them, he watched as she looked back at him, even if it was just for a moment. The face that had just been so perfectly enamored with Clint's family was again looking rattled and she looked away again in an instant.

But he could see the way Clint's wife watched it happen.

He watched the way Laura Barton's brown eyes, warm and kind, drifted to him in curiosity.

Then he looked away much the same way that Natasha had just done to him.

* * *

Clint honestly didn't know what to think when Laura asked about Natasha and Bruce and how long 'that' had been going on. It had completely caught him off guard and he didn't fully comprehend it until he left the room to go check on his partner.

Now he saw how easily, on his first mission back, that Natasha had said they would take Bruce with them. The first mission had all the indications that the two were more and he had overlooked them all because—well, because it was Natasha, the same Natasha who he had never once seen show interest in relationships. The Natasha he had never known to ever be in one. The fact it took both of them three minutes to follow him into the water at the start of that mission was another indicator. The way Bruce had teased her for the 'I'm all wet' comment and she had responded in kind. The way she _let_ Bruce touch her arm the second time on that mission without batting an eye or telling him now to.

Suddenly the wary looks Bruce gave himself and Natasha whenever his fiery partner sat too close to Clint made a bit more sense.

He had seen her playfully shoving Bruce on the training mat to coax him into training with her and he still hadn't put two and two together merely because of Natasha's personality. There was also the free and bubbly little laugh she had let out when Bruce had tripped and taken both of them to the ground, a laugh he only heard on occasions where Clint or his kids did something completely and utterly ridiculous. He had chalked it down to the fact the Natasha had put Bruce into a zone of friendship much like Clint himself was in. But Bruce had convinced her to try and enjoy her birthday, a feat he had never accomplished in the decade he knew her, and that really should have been the tell-all tale that the scientist was in a zone beyond even Clint's own.

In fact, it was the point that Natasha hadn't been subtle about any of it at all that had caused Clint to overlook that hers and Bruce's relationship wasn't just friendship. They had a sort of natural way about them, which now that he thought about it, was actually completely unnatural for either of them.

The _only_ time where he had thought an interaction between them was weird was when they had that silent moment during Natasha's birthday cake where they had stared at one another and smiled, right up until Bruce smeared cake on his partner's nose. Her look of complete shock had pushed the intimate moment just before that out of his mind completely.

The question 'how long' now ran through his own mind. How long _had_ Natasha and Bruce been more than what he saw? How much more _was_ more?

Clint thought to ask her, but now just seemed like the worst time for it. He paused outside the guest bedroom to knock, Natasha's room, and froze when he heard the voices inside.

" _I think you're being hard on yourself."_

" _Here I was hoping that was your job."_

Clint actually felt himself blink several times at the somewhat affectionate yet forward comment from his partner to the one and only Bruce Banner.

" _Natasha...what are you doing?"_

" _I'm running with it, with you. If running's the plan, then as far as you want."_

Shocked wasn't even the word to explain what he just heard Natasha offer and Clint knew better than to stay and listen to the private conversation. He silently made his way down the stairs and snatched Lila into his arms just as she began to head towards the very same room, "Nuh-uh, kiddo. Let Auntie Nat have a few minutes, she's had a really bad day."

"But she always say I make her bad days better," his daughter insisted with a pout of her lips.

"You do, but right now she's uh...she's having a very important conversation," Clint explained and Lila huffed out a tiny and exasperated little breath.

Still, he couldn't get over the surprise of realizing that not only did Natasha have some sort of relationship with Bruce, it was far enough along that his partner, the one whom he thought would _always_ keep fighting, was willing to stop. She had never spoken like that before and he couldn't decide if she was doing it now because of the witch who had played with her mind, or if she was doing it because she truly did want to run off with Bruce Banner.

The look Steve was giving him along with the tiny little smile made Clint sigh, "You already knew about those two, didn't you?"

"I didn't _know_ , know," Steve insisted, "but I had a gut feeling. In case I was wrong I told him to go for it at the party."

Clint raised an eyebrow up at that, "Really?"

"Natasha's more relaxed around him than anyone except for you," Steve pointed out. "They're a good fit, even if they won't admit it," the soldier added with the smallest shrug.

Maybe Steve was right, especially if the partial conversation he overheard was any indication, but he supposed that meant they _had_ admitted it, at least to each other.

Then Lila's suspicious gaze shifted between Clint and Steve. "You two know something I don't know," she accused while wearing Natasha's signature stink-eye.

Steve actually looked fascinated by his little girl's Natasha impression, "Wow...you just might be letting her spend too much time with Natasha."

Clint hooted out a laugh in an instant, "Scary, isn't it?"

Lila stuck up her nose at the comments, "Nuh-huh. Auntie Nat used to come home _all_ the time, now I never see her!" she insisted. Clint couldn't deny it. Natasha's visits were a lot less frequent since SHIELD fell and rebuilt, but he couldn't explain _why_ that was to his daughter and he could see the way Steve's eyes softened a little. She huffed a little as she squirmed down to her feet, put her hands on her hips, and hit them with another Natasha stink-eye. "I know...it's _another_ secret," she grumbled before stalking off.

Steve's eyebrows wormed their way up slightly and Clint scratched his head a little. "Pretty sure she got Nat's attitude through osmosis or something as a baby," he told Steve.

"Barton, kids can't get attitudes through osmosis, jeez, do they teach you SHIELD agents _anything_ besides espionage?" came Tony's taunt as the man stepped inside. Clint watched as the one and only Nick Fury stepped in behind him, "Uh... Nick, good to see you?"

"Technically, Barton, I got here first," Nick stated, "your wife hid me in the barn." Then his former boss took a look around, "Alright...now I saw Thor leave, but two of you are still missing."

Clint opened his mouth but it was Tony who spoke first and surprised him, "Said two took some hard hits, as I'm sure you've heard. They'll come out when they're ready."

"The whole damn world heard, Stark," Nick reminded him. Clint could see the way Tony's eye twitched at the comment, but the billionaire didn't give a retort and Nick sighed, "I have a few phone calls to make, then we need to discuss what comes next."

The moment Nick was out the front door, Clint eyed Tony with suspicion, "So you know about Nat and Banner, too?"

"You didn't?" Tony questioned with raised eyebrows, "do you need your eyes checked?" Clint released a sigh at that while Steve just smiled. "Well, nevertheless, I suppose the bull just ran through that particular china shop. You'd better watch yourself with the way those two have been lately you just might wind up with neighbors, Thor calls it the 'goo-goo eyes' stage. And said new neighbors would then pop out little poopmakers that become little green rage babies. Come to think of it, good God, they might just be angry without Bruce's stellar gene pool, Romanoff is _always_ angry."

Clint stared at him openly and Steve was doing much the same. Finally Clint just shook his head a little before he spoke, "I honestly can't tell the difference anymore for which parts of the things you say are a joke and which aren't.

"Did you know we all shared a bed once?" and once again Clint found himself and Steve with their mouths slightly agape at the commentary. "Actually, one of those little raggamuffins might turn out to be mine. Don't worry, you'll know if it is because it'll be the most dashing thing you've ever seen."

Clint sighed as he double-checked the stairs to make sure Natasha wasn't about to walk down them and hear this ridiculous conversation. "I'm sure it will be, Stark, with a loaded diaper instead of a loaded ego," he stated once he decided the coast was clear.

It forced a laugh from Steve who shook his head in an instant before doing much the same thing Clint himself just had. Even Tony seemed to be double-checking for Natasha's presence.

Then Tony took his comment as a reason to continue the ridiculous story, "Do you think Romanoff would do that? I mean really, the woman has an arsenal on her person at all times, I wouldn't exactly put weaponized diapers passed her." Clint groaned at the comment but it only got worse when Tony used a burly voice, " _Got the diaper, hunny?"_ then he switched to a more feminine tone, " _Fully loaded._ "

Steve's laugh was immediate and even Clint felt the smile lift his lips without his consent.

* * *

"What...so we disappear?"

Bruce couldn't decide what he was supposed to think as he stood at one side of the room and Natasha stood at the other. She had told him that if he planned to run, that she would go as far away as he wanted, and he wasn't sure if he believed that she meant it. A week ago she said she couldn't trust his belief that they would figure it all out and then suddenly, just before Ultron ruined everything, she changed her mind. She told him she wanted more. It was something he had secretly wanted her to say, and he believed those particular words, but the words she spoke about running; those words left him uncertain.

There was the largest possibility that what she saw about her graduation ceremony made her want to run away as far as possible and he understood that feeling. It was the part where she was willing to leave everything behind in this very instant that made him think it was false hope. There was also a chance that his own horrors were putting those thoughts in his head.

However, she didn't answer the question.

Natasha's one arm hung loosely at her side while the other gripped it with obvious uncertainty. The fact that she looked so vulnerable, her eyes red around the edges as she looked to the floor with tears that seemed to be held hostage in an ocean of green...it made him wish he knew how to fix everything in that very second. He had seen her look scared in brief moments, he had even seen her look sad, but this was the first time he had seen her look absolutely devastated. That devastation left him wondering if there was anything that Red Room hadn't taken from her.

He thought the end of them would come when he reminded her that there was no future with him. No chance of a white picket fence, the dog, and the kids. He never imagined she would tell him she had that option taken away from her a dozen years ago. He never imagined that Red Room would go so far as to sterilize her. It left him questioning how she was even still a functioning human being after everything that had been done and taken from her.

Everything between them had just shifted to an entirely new playing field, one that was fair and even, one that wreaked of horror and pain.

"I should take my shower," she told him quietly as she turned and slipped into the bathroom without looking at him again.

Bruce got his pants on, sat on the edge of the bed, and covered his face with his hands as he rubbed at his temples slowly. He had absolutely no idea what to do right now, not for himself, and certainly not for Natasha. He listened as the spray of water turned on and all he could think to do was stay where he was, exactly the way he was. He wasn't even sure how long he stayed that way before the door creaked open as the tiniest knock came with it.

When he looked up, Laura Barton was standing in the partially open doorway and she gave him a warm little smile. "Doctor Banner, right?" she questioned, though he imagined it was for politeness since it certainly wasn't because she didn't already know. "Is she okay?" she questioned when he nodded that she had the right person. She was motioning towards the bathroom door that was cracked open.

"No," Bruce told her with honesty.

She seemed to appreciate that he gave her the truth because she gave the barest nod before she surprised him, "Are you?"

It gave him pause. Most people who knew _what_ he was and _who_ he was, people that weren't Avengers, they never asked that question. "Not really," he answered after a few seconds.

"Do you mind?" came her next question as she gestured towards entering the room. Bruce wouldn't have told her no even if he did mind. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how to feel about it, but he shook his head nonetheless and watched her finally enter the room completely. "Maybe it's none of my business, but coming from someone whose known Natasha for quite some time...she really likes you."

Bruce wasn't sure how to reply to that, but it _was_ nice to hear it. "How can you be so sure?" he dared to ask after a beat.

That warm and friendly smile was back on her face, "You're the guy she was snuffing with a pillow, am I right?"

"Uh..." he stared at her a little wide-eyed without knowing how to answer that.

But her all-knowing smile was there, "That's what I thought. And that's how I know."

He chose to leave her comment as it was and move on. "Natasha seems to—to be happy around your family," he told her awkwardly.

"She wasn't always," Laura answered with a shrug and a smile. "In fact, she despised both Clint _and_ me the first time he brought her here." That seemed a little unlike Natasha and the brunette seemed to understand what he hadn't said, "She wanted nothing to do with Clint's personal life. She actually sat in this very room for three days and wouldn't come out."

"And you never thought that they were—um..."

"Together?" Laura questioned with genuine amusement in her eyes. He gave an embarrassed little nod and she smiled, "No. Don't get me wrong, the first time I saw her, I sort of hated her too." It was enough to make Bruce chuckle for the first time since they arrived. "At first glance, Natasha is not the sort of woman you want your husband to bring home, saying she's his partner."

"But?"

"But..." Laura acknowledged with a nod, "she became the only person I was ever glad to be wrong about. The amount of times she put her life on the line after he brought her here _just_ to make sure he always came home...well she—Natasha isn't just his partner, she hasn't been for a long time, she's our family. Even though she hated him and didn't like me, she did and still does exactly what family is supposed to..." Bruce listened with fascination as she finished, "she makes sure, hell or high water, that I always get my husband back. She makes sure my children still have a father. Before she showed up, I didn't even realize that there was something missing from this family, not until she was already here."

Bruce gave her a more honest smile now but it left his lips the second he heard noises of something clattering to the floor come from the bathroom. Laura's head swiveled in the same direction until a few more thuds came after it and Bruce got to his feet in an instant.

Just as he moved towards the bathroom, Laura placed a gentle but warning hand on his arm, "Maybe you shouldn't."

Maybe not, but he did it anyways as he moved towards the continued thuds and noises. He creaked the door open and the shower was still on with Natasha still inside it. He realized _what_ the noise was as he watched her silhouette through the curtain while her fist hit the wall. All he could do was frown. He glanced back to Laura who had the disheartened look on her face before she gave a small nod and then he slowly peeled the curtain aside.

Natasha didn't acknowledge him as she leaned her head against the wall of the shower with her eyes closed and he watched as she slid down to sit next to fallen shampoo and conditioner bottles. He released a shaky breath before he stepped under the ice cold spray, put the bottles back on the shelf, and sat down next to her in the small space she left beside her. He didn't have to say a word, which was probably for the best, and he carefully draped his arm over her shivering shoulders, slightly relieved when she rested her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed.

He could see Laura double checking, probably to make sure he hadn't gotten stabbed for what he had just done, and he could see the surprise mingling with relief just before she left the bedroom. Apparently he had just done something that most people wouldn't have gotten away with when it came to Natasha.

For the first time since she told him she might not be capable of feeling more, he wasn't so sure if it was actually programming Red Room intentionally placed within her head like he originally thought and insisted; for the first time he believed it might actually just be her mind's way of protecting her after everything they _had_ done to her.

And Bruce wasn't sure he could fault her for that if it was true.

* * *

They hadn't said a word to each other since they joined the others down in the kitchen and dining room and Bruce could see they way Natasha half listened and half allowed her mind to wander. Her only real reaction came when Clint's daughter once again dragged it out of her without even trying. He watched the little girl and her braided pigtails as she bounded over to her 'Auntie Nat', tugged on Natasha's arm, then handed the redhead a piece of paper.

Once again Bruce watched as the look of pure and complete adoration came over Natasha's face as she took the paper, looked at it, then placed her hand endearingly on Lila's cheek and gave her loving little smile as she put the paper down. It seemed to be exactly what the little girl hoped for as she smiled and took off back into the other room. It was pure curiosity that had him moving a step closer and glancing at the paper over her shoulder.

A butterfly, colored by Lila just for her Aunt and Bruce watched as Natasha felt his presence, then turned and gave him a look of utter discomfort. She looked away again just a moment later and he sighed just a little. He wondered in that moment how much it actually hurt her to love the Barton kids that much.

He thought it might be a hell of a lot if the look on her face just a second ago had been any indication.

* * *

Everything hurt. That was the first thing that Natasha could think as she felt her body come out of its stupor. She wasn't sure what to expect when she first heard sounds, sounds that hit her ears in much the same way as Tony Stark working on a suit in his lab. But when she opened her eyes, there was no lab in Stark tower. No billionaire using a blowtorch on his suit. No awkward scientist hunched over a desk with his glasses on the brim of his nose and crinkles around his eyes from squinting with far too much concentration.

Instead there was Ultron and even as she debated feigning continued unconscious, it seemed she didn't have to bother with it.

"I was unsure you'd wake up." It left her with a sinking feeling in her gut as she struggled to get her limbs to cooperate. Free falling through the sky had that effect on the body, even one somewhat as resilient as her own, but her injuries from a week ago had flared up when she'd been snatched out of the air by Ultron's legion. "I hoped you would. I wanted to show you. I don't have anyone else..." She took a few shaky breaths as she finally forced herself to sit up as he started walking towards her and she watched carefully, expecting at any moment for him to attempt a killing blow. "I think a lot about meteors, the purity of them. Boom! The end, start again. The world made clean for the new man to rebuild." For artificial intelligence, she was fairly certain that Ultron had completely and utterly gone insane, but his next words sort of proved it, "I was meant to be new. I was meant to be beautiful." He was getting closer and closer. "The world would've looked to the sky and seen hope, seen mercy. Instead they'll look up in horror because of you." It wouldn't exactly be the first time somebody said those words to her. She knew her nerves were jittery just from the sweat continuously beading down her face as he spoke, she knew _he_ knew. "You've wounded me. I give you full marks for that. But, like the man said..." and she could see that his 'body' clearly needed a tweak and a shine, maybe, just maybe that meant she could do something, get away, maybe— "What doesn't kill me..."

Startled didn't even begin to explain her reaction when he was ripped apart just two feet from her face. She visibly jumped and crawled back in an instant as a _different_ Ultron took his place, and before she could realize the mistake, he slammed closed the door to a cage that she didn't know she had backed into, and he locked it.

"Just so you know," Ultron tacked on as he crouched down at the cage and stuck his face right to the bars. "Red Room didn't make you incapable of... _love_ ," and that last word came out mocking as he gave her that robotic and unpleasantly sinister smile, "you did that all on your own."

Natasha didn't say a word in return as she held his gaze. He was mocking a conversation that she'd had with Bruce just a week ago in the tower. The truth was, there was no reason for her to bother with a retort, not when Ultron was probably right.

Then he gave her the proof, "You let Stark have Jarvis sort through that...rather bloody and intriguing file of yours." He tapped his forehead, "I know all." She still didn't bother to say anything back to him. There was no point. "And just so you know..." She felt the frustration building as he purposely waited to continue that statement for a second time, "Eventually, it really _won't_ be enough." Then he chuckled, "Also, you've got a little something, right here," he added as he tapped at his metallic lip.

He walked away and Natasha sat there in silence, not releasing the shaky breaths that had been screaming to come out until she was sure Ultron was gone. She ran her tongue over her lower lip and tasted copper before she wiped the blood away with her hand. She supposed that in a sense, he had accomplished exactly what he set out to do; She felt those defensive walls rebuilding themselves as her confidence in Bruce's words dwindled.

The longer she sat there after repeatedly sending out the Morse code signal, the further everything faded, she couldn't even find a way out of the cell. Natasha finally sat back in her cage and did nothing. The world could be about to end and she was trapped like Ultron's personal pet. It was the story of her life. Natasha Romanoff was always stuck under someone's thumb. Red Room. The KGB. SHIELD. HYDRA. If she got out of this cage, she would cut those strings that held her hostage as a puppet, cut the strings from all of them by finishing this job. She would fight, then maybe she could close her reddened ledger, then she would finally feel like running was okay. She would finally feel like she deserved it.

She just needed to finish what she started.

"Natasha...?"

She felt her head jolt in an instant as she got to her feet.

"Natasha!"

"Bruce?" and she couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. He wasn't the first person she would have expected to come and launch a rescue, maybe not the last person, but certainly not the first.

She gripped the bar of her cage as he walked over to her and saw him study her with his ever thoughtful and worried eyes. "You alright?" he asked the moment he was close enough to fully look her over.

Natasha gave him the smallest nod, "Yeah."

"The team's in the city, it's about to light up," he warned her.

That was the first good thing she had heard in a while and she glanced around. "Don't suppose you found a key lying around somewhere?" and it was supposed to be a joke, because really, what were the chances of that?

"Yeah, I did." She took a startled step back as he held up a large gun and then she stepped to the side. Even less expected than Bruce playing the white knight was Bruce Banner with a gun and she watched with fascination as he blew off the lock.

She watched him step forward and yank at the cage and she pulled right along with him. It wasn't exactly as easy to move as Ultron had made it look, but they shoved it enough for her to edge her way out. "So what's our play?" she questioned as she studied him.

"I'm here to get you to safety."

It was yet another unexpected answer and she gave him a slightly confused look. "Job's not finished," she reminded him. And she _really_ needed the job to be finished.

Bruce gave her that self-loathing look she hated before he replied, "We could help with the evacuation but I can't be in a fight near civilians, and you've done plenty. Our fight is over."

Natasha _almost_ believed that was true. Almost. "So we just disappear?"

"As far as you want," he told her as they made their way out of Ultron's lair. She wondered if she would always keep saying the same thing. Before she kept telling herself that they just needed to get the scepter. Just finish the job, get the scepter, and she could move on. Move on with Bruce. Now it was the same thing all over again. Same thing. Different job. Just finish the job. Finish the job, defeat Ultron, and she could move on. She could run away with him.

If she didn't finish it, she wasn't sure she would find peace with herself, not even if the Avengers won the fight. She didn't think Bruce would either. Everything was beginning to shake and Natasha found herself watching as everything started falling apart around them. Hell, the city was beginning to fly above their heads, ripped straight from the ground. It was like watching something from a horrible science fiction movie. It was like Aliens terrorizing New York all over again. It was—

"We gotta move."

She felt Bruce's hand on her arm and she stared at him with disbelief that she wouldn't allow to show. "You're not going to turn green?" she asked him.

There it was. That look that told her Bruce wanted to say so much more than the words he let flow from his lips, the words he chose instead, likely for the sake of thinking she would run if he said what he really wanted to say, "I've got a compelling reason not to lose my cool."

There was a moment where she wanted to tell him they should run. They should run and they shouldn't look back. Then there was the voice in her head reminding her that there were four people up on that flying rock that shouldn't trust her, people that trusted her anyways. If they ran, she would hate herself and if they ran, Bruce would hate himself too.

Or she could swallow that fear, hope that he was right when he told her that what she felt would be enough even if she pushed too far, and she could finish the job.

"I adore you," Natasha finally bit the words out that he _didn't_ say. The words that seemed to shock him even before she placed her hand on the back of his head and roughly pressed her lips against his. For the first moment he seemed too shocked by the suddenness to respond, and it was probably for the best she didn't let it go on for very long. The moment he returned the kiss, she pressed one hand to his chest, then the other, and _pushed_. The absolutely horror on his face as she took away his choice in the matter assured her that she had just done the unforgivable, to herself, and most likely to Bruce. She knew exactly what it felt like to have all your choices made for you, to have choices taken away from you. "But I need the other guy..." she told no one in particular as she waited. Besides, she probably wouldn't have to worry about Bruce hating her for very long. There was a gnawing feeling this just might be the day she didn't come back from the fight. And maybe...maybe that was for the best after what she had just done.

It only took seconds before she heard him. Seconds before she took a step back when he jumped up and landed in front of her. Natasha found herself staring into the eyes of one extremely pissed off Hulk and for just a moment it was a staring contest.

"Let's finish the job," she told him, watching as he seemed to stare her down further. He wasn't thrilled with what she had just done, but given that he hadn't just smeared the ground with her blood, she figured she was safe. She meant what she had told Bruce at Clint's home. He wasn't a threat to her and this moment proved it. Finally he gave a volatile little nod and she pointed to the city that was nearly at the point of no return, "I'm gonna need a ride."

The Big Guy looked up at the floating city and then back at her with suspicion and clear disdain at the idea. It was a few more seconds before he turned around and when he did, she thought he just might leave her down here, until he finally knelt down and looked back at her.

Natasha was almost positive she was going to hate every moment of this as she wrapped her arms around his neck and locked her legs as best as physically possible on his back.

And she wasn't wrong. She wanted to throw up about every second of the bumpy ride.

* * *

Tony watched as Natasha tried to get their big green mean machine to turn off stealth mode on the quinjet so they could get him back. He even thought, for just a second, that she was about to make a lullaby happen over a video link. Right up until The Hulk cut her off.

The look that crossed her face was one that made _everything_ inside him hurt. It was a look that told Tony she _knew_ it would happen, she knew, but he could see the way it hurt anyways. It wasn't often that Natasha felt something that she couldn't hide from her face, but this was one of those times. She stared at the where The Hulk had just been. She stared with her lips parted just slightly and a pained look in her eyes.

Natasha stared with a look he had only ever seen Bruce wear.

She stared like she hated herself.

There were just no words he could think to say as she finally managed to force it all back inside. There were still no words as she turned around and left the communications room with a void on her face where he had just seen so much. In fact, nobody had spoken in minutes since it happened and Tony wished he knew what he could say to her. He knew what she did to bring The Hulk into the fight. But he also knew she hadn't made that decision lightly.

Hell...

Tony probably would have made the same choice, loathed as he was to admit it, even if it was just to himself.

He gave her ten minutes before he left and went after her. He found her plucking a bullet from her calf and he frowned as he took a seat on the bench beside her. "They have doctors for that, you know," he reminded her.

"I'll pass. Clearly doctors and I don't really jive well." Nothing. Her tone held _nothing._ Her comment was one that said she was angry and sad, but it came out sounding so...empty.

"He'll come back," Tony tried next.

Natasha barely acknowledged the comment as she finally found the bullet she was digging for with tweezers and yanked it out without so much as a grimace or noise to show pain. "For you, maybe," she replied with a shrug, "I didn't just burn that bridge, I made sure it would never be rebuilt."

He still couldn't find even a semblance of emotion and he wondered just how far down she was burying all of this. He wondered how long she could keep it up. "Natasha..."

She flicked the bullet across the room as her eyes stared at the wall. "It doesn't matter, Stark. I knew this would happen," she stated nonchalantly, "I always knew this would happen."

Tony took a deep breath as she stood up and left the room without another word or even a glance back. She didn't pause in the doorway, she didn't hesitate in her steps in the slightest. She just left, just like Bruce.

Romanoff stayed. Romanoff took Steve's offer to be his second in command of the Avengers.

But not Natasha.

Natasha didn't come back, at least not for a while, and Tony felt like he lost two friends in an instant. Even when he saw pieces of Natasha return, she just wasn't the same one that left.

* * *

It was just a month.

Just a single month later when she was packing up her room in the tower that Tony gave a knock on the slightly ajar door. He watched as she glanced over at him, like maybe she expected someone else, and then she zipped the worn out black dufflebag closed and slung it over her shoulder.

"You didn't waste much time packing," he commented as she stepped towards him at the door.

"Never do," she answered with a shrug, "I pack light."

Tony sighed at that. "You..." and he just couldn't find the right words to say. He hadn't been able to find them for a month now.

"What is it?" she asked.

"We're still friends, right?" he finally dared to question.

It was the first time in a month that he saw something flicker in her eyes, even if it was only slightly, he saw the way they softened. He saw the way she hesitated, even if it was just for the briefest of moments, and then he knew why when she finally answered, "You tell me."

So that was it. She had assumed that he was blaming her the same way she was likely blaming herself. Tony put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, "We are."

The mask fully faded in an instant and the same sadness he saw in them when The Hulk shut down the video feed came into them. Natasha gave him the smallest inclination of her head to show she accepted his words and he did something that neither of them really expected. He pulled her in and hugged her. She was stiff as a board for a moment before he felt one of her hands rest with uncertainty on his back. "Thanks, Tony," and he was pretty sure she sounded genuine. Then she handed him that velvet box that held the ring for Pepper, "Still safe."

Tony took it with a smile and put it in his pocket, "Appreciate that." She gave a nod as she disentangled herself from his embrace. He really hated watching her go. Without Bruce and without Natasha, the tower was going to be a shell of its former self.

 **()()**

When Bruce was first himself again, the first thing he wanted to do was go back. Everything was a mixture of anger and sadness and pain, and he couldn't, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Every time his mind said 'go back', he reminded himself that the Other Guy left for good reason, he left because Natasha had very nearly died to perform that last lullaby.

As much as she wanted to say it, she would never be safe with him, he would always be a threat to her. To everyone.

Every day. Every day for six months he had the same dream. The same memory.

The look in her eyes in Sokovia nearly matched the one he had seen her give little Lila Barton. The words...

" _I adore you..._ "

Everything he had wanted to hear and see came in seconds, and then he knew why...

Natasha knew. She knew what she was about to do and she knew that would be the end. She knew he wouldn't forgive it.

And she had told him everything she had told him she may never be able to feel. She felt what she said she wouldn't be able to feel.

It took six months of hearing that 'I adore you' over and over again in his mind and his dreams to convince him to at least go see Tony. He missed his best friend just as much as he missed Natasha.

FRIDAY told him that Tony wasn't there, but that as always, Bruce was free to make himself at home. Going to the floor, his heart rate rose as the elevator did, and he stared at Natasha's room the moment he stepped onto the floor. It was a spur of the moment decision that made him knock.

"Miss Romanoff has not been in the tower for five months now, Doctor Banner," FRIDAY informed him in an instant, "only once two weeks ago when she said she had left something in her room."

And then he felt his heart drop into his stomach. "Oh..."

"The Avengers are no longer based in the tower, the boss had been renovating a building upstate and it is now the new base for the team," FRIDAY explained.

At least she hadn't left because he left. That made Bruce relax his shoulders slightly as he slowly pushed the door open and peered inside. Everything looked much the same, though he knew that was because most of it was Pepper's doing, and Natasha had never actually added her own touches. He closed the door after a few more seconds and went to his own, but truthfully, even his own room reminded him of Natasha.

The anger at what she did was still there. The betrayal still stung. The fact that he still cared about her frustrated him even further.

Only when he got to his bedroom did he freeze in place. The last thing he expected to see was sitting right on top of the covers.

That stupid stuffed Hulk toy in a knight costume sat there, staring back at him, and for just a moment all that pain, anger and frustration disappeared. HuggaHulk, in all it's ridiculous stuffed animal glory, and Bruce picked it up and stared at it. He still hated the absurd little thing with a passion, and if it weren't for the fact that it belonged to Natasha, he would have thrown it in the trash then and there.

"FRIDAY said you were here, but honestly, I thought she was batshit."

Bruce turned around, Hulk toy in hand, and stared at his best friend. "No...I'm here," he stated, as though that weren't obvious enough.

Tony stared at him for another moment before he sighed, "Well...you picked a hell of a time, Bruce. You aren't going to like what I'm about to tell you."

That wasn't what he expected within fifteen minutes of being back, "Don't start beating around the bush on me now, Tony."

It at least made his friend give a sad smile in return, "You might want to sit down."

Now he was really worried, "Tony..."

"Yesterday Ross attacked the Avengers' facility upstate," Tony told him. His heart dropped right back into his stomach and he was grateful that he didn't have to ask, "They're all okay, but Natasha's gone, Bruce. Ross was after her." And Bruce knew the next words were coming even before Tony said them, "He was after her because he's looking for you."

" _Something inside this heart has died.  
You're in ruins."_

* * *

 **Well. There it is. I know you guys probably hate that ending, but I'll have the epilogue up tomorrow morning after I make sure it's exactly what I want it to be. Thanks to everyone who stuck around for the ride and I hope you're ready to start the next part of the journey with, 'In Ruins'.**

 **Love all you guys!**


	30. Epilogue

**(Make sure you actually read the final chapter since I updated this one less than an hour later, clicking the latest link brings you past it and to the Epilogue, I don't want you guys to get confused about where the final chapter went, it's there! xD)**

 **Author's Note** : Okay, it didn't take me long to decide I liked my epilogue and didn't need to make many edits. So... waiting for tomorrow wasn't necessary. I know Bruce's part in the final chapter was sort of an epilogue of it's own, but I'll still give you the official epilogue, fully equipped with the quote that this story was named for.

 **Epilogue; Sneak Preview for** :

 _ **In Ruins**_

" _But isn't it in ruins  
that we mostly find the treasures?"_

Natasha stood inside the shambles of what had formerly been Bruce's home in Bahir, India. It was sad enough to once again be on the run and once again be on her own, but she had long ago accepted that she was fated for scenarios such as this. To make matters more depressing, even though she was wearing her own torn and dirtied jeans from days prior, she was now clad in one of the scientist's long untouched and musty button-up shirts. It wasn't much, but it was something to make her less prone to the sense of foreboding that had overcome her since General Ross had begun to come after her. It felt pathetic and pitiful to cling to the remnants left behind in her heart of a man who had disappeared without a trace and without a word of goodbye nearly half a year ago.

Outwardly she had given no notion to anyone of how hollow she felt after he had left. Natasha didn't feel like she deserved to play the role of some brokenhearted fool, not when she had given him such a perfect reason to leave her behind. The impossible choices always seemed to fall to her and the choice to either run away with Bruce or force his transformation into The Hulk had been the hardest of any she had ever felt compelled to make. If they ran and the world had ended then it would have left Bruce and The Hulk to likely still be alive and unforgivably alone, and he would have hated himself. She knew when she forced that transformation that it would be the end of anything they might have become, the end of any chance for her own happy ending, an ending she wasn't allowed to have because of her own decisions. He had told her once that if she ever pushed him too far that he would still believe that what little she had to offer him emotionally was enough.

But he left after Ultron. He had never come back.

It became crystal clear after that, that what little she had to offer in an emotional sense would never truly be enough, just the way she had told him would one day happen.

She had needed to give up her heart's desire in Sokovia, give up the desire to be with Bruce for however long they may have lasted so that he could live with himself after it was all over. Ironically it was the most selfless act that she had ever managed to perform, and though it felt entirely unfair, she supposed that the worst things were done with even the best intentions. She could live with the fact he was alive and that he hated her. She accepted that would be the outcome when she kissed him and told him the basics of how she felt. Adoration had been all she was willing and able to part with at the time and it felt like so little now that she had lost him. Day after day, she had given him pieces of herself, pieces that he took with him when he left. Pieces she knew that she probably wouldn't get back and that she wasn't certain she even wanted returned to her. After all, they were pieces that Bruce himself had managed to put together in her, he deserved to keep them.

And now Natasha stood alone with those thoughts as she watched a silhouette approach the beaten down house. She had noticed the possible intruder when they were much farther away, but until now, she hadn't been sure if they actually intended to come to her rundown abode. Three days in the crumbling shack left her twitchy and prone to violent reactions, so she waited by the front door with the only weapon she had on her person, a sleek and simple combat knife that Bruce had given to her what felt like a lifetime ago. She schooled her breaths to be even and silent as she awaited the coming footsteps. It seemed clear that the person had no interest in stealth, though she didn't imagine at this point that Ross was interested in covert tactics. He was coming for her to try and get to Bruce but Ross couldn't see the flaw in his plans; he didn't know that she had completely and utterly screwed up everything in order to save Bruce from himself, in order to be able to be in a place Bruce deserved in case she _hadn't_ ruined everything.

It seemed like forever as the person hesitated outside the door and she felt her heart begin to race. When you were strung out on no sleep and no food for seventy-two hours it became near impossible to keep calm and even more impossible to remain stoic. The door slowly swung open and she didn't hesitate as the intruder stepped inside; she grabbed a hold of them and slammed them into the wall just inside the door. Natasha's vision was unclear, bathed in red for just a moment and ready to deliver swift death, or she was, right up until she realized who it was.

She froze with the knife just a breath away from his chest. Her breathing hitched slightly as the violent tendencies of her reddened vision faded and cleared. Slowly the invader's face came more clearly into her sight and she wondered for that very moment if she was hallucinating.

"Natasha..."

For just a brief moment, she was torn, torn between kissing Bruce Banner or actually stabbing him. She chose neither option as she slowly pulled the knife back to her side and took a few steps backwards. She had gone much longer without sleep or food for him to purely be a visage of her mind and he refused to fade as instead he stepped forward and placed his hands gently on either side of her face.

Bruce's brown eyes looked full of sorrow and self-loathing and she _knew_ because she saw much the same in the mirror when she dared to look into one. He didn't say anything, he just stared at her as though he couldn't really believe she was standing there.

"What are you doing here, Bruce?" she questioned, barely managing to keep emotion from breaking through her voice and her face.

It felt near impossible to keep up the charade, even harder when he spoke, "Don't do that...don't hide. That's not fair, Natasha."

She ignored his request and instead asked again, "What are you doing here?"

"You really thought I wouldn't come?" Bruce asked with sheer disbelief, "this is happening because of me."

She reached her hand up tentatively to his cheek and her thumb traced over his bottom lip. "So you came to play the white knight? I don't need one," she assured him, "I've done just fine on my own."

"Natasha, that's not—I'm here because I care."

She was forced to chew on her lower lip before she managed to overcome her inability to speak and when she did, her voice sounded foreign to her own ears as her rasp of a voice escaped. All the hurt and anger came flooding back as she said the words aloud while she took a few steps back from Bruce again, "I believed that once before, Bruce, when you said it would be enough." She saw the hurt in his eyes in an instant and she shook her head as she looked away, "You lied..."

 _"A broken heart  
_ _hides so many treasures."_

 **END**

* * *

 **Thanks to everyone who enjoyed the ride for 'The Gray Areas' and I hope to see you again for the next installment, 'In Ruins'.**


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